


The Daughter of Many

by hehkhatea



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Angst, Childhood Friends, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Temporary Character Death, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2018-10-02 14:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10220438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hehkhatea/pseuds/hehkhatea
Summary: Gwen and Dakota are Camp Jupiter's worst Centurions, or at least they feel like it. Gwen works hard to be supportive of the Fifth Cohort and a person that takes initiative when the going gets tough. It's why she's the perfect candidate for Praetor, and Gwen fully intends on becoming it, but she's not the only one vying for a chance.Dakota wants nothing more than to coast through his duties as a Centurion, to just go with the flow, but his best friend needs his support. Dakota may or may not also be falling for his best friend, which confuses and terrifies him, not the emotions he needs in order to "go with the flow".[Set in before and during "Son of Neptune".]





	1. GWEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re an idiot if you think I’d ever be happy without you.”
> 
> (originally posted on 3/11/17  
> edited on 5/22/17)

Gwen woke up in the barracks with a feeling of… uncertainty. There was something wrong, the air didn’t feel right or something along the lines of there was a disturbance in the universe. The feeling was unfamiliar, but she has had moments of a similar feeling; a depression so deep and dark that everything feels off, like eating cereal with just expired milk. It’s bad and it doesn’t make you feel good, but it looked fine and maybe the smell didn’t throw you off enough for you to know it was expired; and besides, milk is still probably fine a couple days after the date. This was buying whole milk, when you pour it into a bowl it looks like chocolate milk, and when you drink it it tastes like strawberry milk. Whole, brown, expired strawberry milk. That was all kinds of wrong and it was what Gwen felt like as she woke up.

She got up, begrudgingly, and went down from her bunk. It was dark in the barracks, the only light coming from the dimly lit torches outside in the streets of Camp. Quietly and carefully she walked over to the opposite wall where Dakota was sleeping. This was an exercise she had been doing for a couple years now, the route was clear, yet sometimes campers left water bottles or clothes lying on the floor for her to trip on. Squished inside his bunk that was too short for him, thin white blankets tangled around him. It was probably good that he was on a bottom bunk since he was known for falling out of bed from either drunkenness or nightmares. “Hey, D.” She shook him gently, waking Dakota with a fright. He covered his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing.

“Time to go.” Gwen greeted. Dakota got out of bed and they started their morning routine. The two of them got dressed for their morning jog, careful not to awaken the rest of the campers in the barracks. A while back, Dakota had insisted that they dress similarly, to always be in uniform, so along with their matching purple tank-tops, Gwen and Dakota had matching jogging shorts. Dakota yawned all through their stretches, Gwen could tell that he hadn’t slept well. It was that, or he was up late drinking with the lares. The sun was just rising over the hills, and the cold wind blew harshly as the two of them ran on the bank of the Tiber. For a moment, Gwen forgot about her terrible feeling, maybe she just felt bad because she didn’t sleep well. She was probably just overreacting. “Ready?” Dakota nodded.

Despite his grogginess, Dakota ran with ease, while Gwen eventually fell behind a little. Gwen couldn’t help thinking how good he looked; fit for athletics but not for aesthetics, battling against his syndrome to get into shape. It was just enough for him to keep his muscle mass, but the constant physical checkups he got helped, too. Compared to Gwen’s pear shaped body that never stayed toned despite her regular exercise, they were complete opposites. Dakota had rich dark curls and striking blue eyes, while Gwen had red hair and round brown eyes. Her thighs were chafing from running, something Gwen had grown used to since puberty. She tried to push forward, get past him. When Gwen caught up to him, Dakota squinted and grinned at Gwen, almost sizing her up. Which could only mean one thing:

“Race you to Terminus!” Dakota challenged before going into a sprint. Gwen yelled in protest before she chased after him. Her chest was already hurting from exhaustion, but Gwen pressed on and attempted to pass him. She was getting closer and closer, only trying to push a little bit at a time so she wouldn’t exert herself. The sunlight lit up the buildings in the distance in a fiery orange, Gwen could practically taste the fresh coffee and warm bagel she was going to get once she reached New Rome. This was their morning ritual; centurion bonding through exercise and breakfast. It was Gwen’s only way of getting Dakota out of bed in time; he really only listened to her and Reyna, and Gwen knew he preferred being woken up by her than Reyna.

Suddenly they were neck and neck and the border to New Rome close at hand. The two of them were laughing, trying to push each other. And then in the last few feet, Gwen pulled ahead as Dakota slowed to a stop, right in front of the marble god. “Ah, Gwendolyn and Dakota.” Terminus greeted. “I see you’re up bright an early, just as Romans should.”

“Oh, you know us,” Dakota was winded, resting his hands on his knees. “The very model of a major-general.” He saluted lazily.

“Yes, well, don’t dawdle around New Rome for too long, you do have morning duties.”

“Ah, that reminds me,” Dakota pointed. “Forgot to take my morning shi-” Gwen quickly covered Dakota’s mouth and simply guided him into the city on Terminus’ signal. 

“There is a time and place for jokes like that, you know.” Gwen warned.

“Yes, ma’am.” Dakota rolled his eyes with a grin. The two of them walked to the small cafe they frequented; Gwen’s usual order was a chai latte with an espresso shot while Dakota usually got some frozen coffee drink, never the same kind. He always drank it too fast, resulting in either brainfreeze or a terrible stomachache on the run back to Camp. With their drinks and a couple bagels they started their way back to Camp, taking a more leisurely stroll. “I always forget that I don’t like coffee.” Dakota commented after taking a sip of his drink, his tongue sticking out a little.

“I was going to comment how there’s more sugar in there than coffee,” Gwen replied. “But then I remember how much kool-aid you drink in a day.”

“There’s more to my cocktails than kool-aid, you know.” Dakota took a bite of his bagel. Gwen studied the sky, watching the colors of the sun rise turn more blue and bright with each passing step. The familiar feeling of dread washed over her, the same feeling she had when she woke up. She found herself getting lost in her thoughts, not thinking of anything in particular, but not being present in the moment. The dirt road leading back to Camp was damp, what ever frost or dew that had covered it during the night had melted or dried, but there was still a satisfying mushy crunch sound. The air felt cold, it felt like it was going right through her, but it was warming up. “Earth to Gwen.” Dakota snapped his fingers in front of Gwen.

Gwen apologized. “What were you saying?

“Nothing,” Dakota smiled. “I just don’t like to be alone with my thoughts when I’m sober, or drunk. Anything you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” Gwen shook her head.

“It’s nothing, really,” Gwen took a sip of her drink. “I just don’t feel so good. Something big is happening, or bad. Just… Something.”

“Is this about Jason?” Dakota questioned. “Have you… been having dreams?” Demigods were prone to getting weird dreams, often times prophetic dreams, and Gwen was no different. When Jason, one of her best friends, suddenly disappeared, Gwen had weird dreams back to back for months. Jason had been gone for half a year, assumed dead by a lot of the camp, leaving all the Praetor duties to Reyna. It was because of that Gwen had started to feel the pressure of her centurion duties, that even though she loves her cohort of ragtag demigods, she couldn’t help feeling she had more potential.

“No,” Gwen reassured. “No dreams, not really. Maybe I’m just anxious. All this,” Gwen used air quotes, “‘Praetor Campaigning’ must be getting to me.” For the past couple of weeks, Gwen has been doing more and more work around Camp in an attempt to show the Camp she’s Praetor material. If a fellow anyone needed help, Gwen was more than willing to help, but she had been going above and beyond the call of duty. She asked the Centurions from the other cohorts if they’d support her, and despite her cohort most of them said yes. All except Octavian, who was hoping to run as Praetor himself without any competition. 

Dakota didn’t seem convinced, a look of concern was still on his face, but he didn’t say anything else on the matter. Gwen stopped, holding onto Dakota’s sleeve to get his attention and to stop him as well. He looked at her, his thick dark eyebrows knitting together. “Do you think I could be Praetor?”

A small smile creeped on Dakota’s face, but his eyes said something else, something sadder. “Do you?”

“Dakota.” She groaned.

“Gwen.” He mocked. Gwen pushed him, nearly causing him to spill his coffee. “Hey! How do you expect to become Praetor if you’re bullying your legionnaires?”

“I wouldn’t bully them if they gave me a straight answer.” Dakota shook his head and threw his arm around Gwen’s shoulder, pulling her into his sweaty body. It was gross, but he felt warm, warmer than crisp air.

“I think you’re doubting yourself too much,” Dakota started to explain. “You get this way when things are going to well for too long. Your competition for Praetor is Octavian, who has the social skills of a rabid turtle.” Gwen snorted. “You know that I know you can be Praetor, you also know that I wish you weren’t trying to do this because it means you will ignore me for the next couple years while I try to outdrink the late Hemingway.”

Gwen stopped walking, she felt betrayed. “I’m not going to ignore you,” She said. “Why do you think that?”

Dakota shrugged. There was a sort of sadness that only Gwen had ever seen, something in his face reminded her of when they were young, but he was trying to be cool, but he didn’t really need to try. “I know when people get busy they start to forget,” He said. “I know you won’t mean to.” He looked down at her, his eyes crinkling with his grin. “I’d rather you forget me and be happy, than to know me and regret your life.”

For a second, Gwen let those words penetrate her. Knowing the leaps and bounds that Dakota would do for her, knowing that she would probably do the same. And then she replied. “You’re an idiot if you think I’d ever be happy without you.”

* * *

 

The sun had risen high into the sky, not a cloud in sight. Gwen was overseeing a sword training session, the harsh clanking of metal made her ears ring. She patrolled the lines of campers, observing and giving pointers on the proper stance. Gwen was a pretty proficient swordsman, but Gwen prefered to work more stealthy, which wasn’t a common practice in Camp Jupiter. Throwing knives and using daggers, it required precision, and it required luck. If there was anything Gwen was good at, it was being light on her feet in a pinch and keeping out of danger. With the gladiator battles going on later that evening, Gwen knew that she would have to be fast; strike down hard and get out quick. Which came in handy as Gwen turned around, just in time to miss the arrow that nearly hit her square in the chest.

In an instant, Gwen heard the arrow, a sharp whoosh over the sound of the clanging swords. As she whipped her head around, the arrow was in sight, just inches away from her face, and she stepped out of the way. The arrow sunk into the ground next to Gwen’s feet, and she felt all of the air exit her body. The campers around her stopped and went to check on Gwen, where she all assured them she was fine. “Gods,” One camper breathed, “An inch closer and you would’ve been skewered.” It was then that a camper with a bow came in and gave a fervent apology, claiming that the bow snapped and surprised them so much that the arrow knocked at a terribly high angle.

“I was so freaked out by the bowstring snapping,” They sobbed. “I-I didn’t have time to call out a w-warning!” Gwen patted their shoulder and smiled at them, reassuring them that no one got hurt. Following close behind was the Augur, Octavian. 

“Do forgive him,” Octavian purred. “Truly was a slip up, I saw it with my own eyes.”  _ What a coincidence _ , Gwen thought.

“It’s no problem,” Gwen told the worried camper. “Try not to pull the string too hard next time.” They nodded, leaving in a hurry, not making eye contact with Octavian, who watched them leave the training area. The rest of the campers went back to their drills, but Octavian stayed, approaching Gwen.

“So,” Octavian admired Gwen’s training sword in her scabbard. “I hear your Praetor campaigning is going well. Already forgetting Jason?”

“No, not at all. I still think he’ll come back,” Gwen adjusted her posture, trying to shake off the creeping feeling going up her back. “But should we actually find out if he’s alive or dead from your teddy bear stuffings.” That seemed to pinch a nerve, which pleased Gwen. For years, Octavian has given off the worst feeling of entitlement and general haughtiness, any chance to turn the tables on him had to be taken. “I think I have a pretty good chance at Praetor.”

Then Octavian grinned, but his eyes didn’t smile with it. He approached closer; Gwen knew his tactics, he was trying to intimidate her, get into her personal space and make her uncomfortable. Gwen stood firm, didn’t waver, didn’t break eye contact. Octavian chuckled, his breath tickled her nose. “I’d say so. You have a long line of godly parentage: Mercury, Fortuna, even Apollo, like myself. Not to mention everyone likes you, a true people person.” Then Octavian’s face dropped, his eyebrows furrowed and his nose started to wrinkle, his face curling into a snarl. “But you’re from the Fifth Cohort, and you’ll never amount to anything, especially when you’re the centurion to a bunch of losers with a drunk for partner.” Gwen rotated her jaw in irritation, taking in a deep sigh. “You don’t have the power needed to be Praetor.”

And then she laughed, Gwen tried so hard to hold it back but she couldn’t stop. Octavian stepped away from her, startled and a bit miffed that Gwen was laughing at him. Gwen then pulled herself together, wiping away her tears of laughter. “Oh, Octavian, bless your heart” She giggled a little. “I’ve known you for ten years, you dissect children’s toys for offerings, and you’re skinnier than a string bean. You’re not telling me anything I don’t tell myself everyday,” Gwen’s tone shifted, stone faced like Terminus’ bust. “I have a lot of doubts about myself, and I know you’re trying to rub salt in the wounds, but you’re going to have to try a lot harder. I know you’re used to getting what you want, so if you want to be Praetor, go for it.”

Gwen then moved closer, her finger poking against his chest. “But don’t bring my Cohort into this, and you especially don’t bring Dakota up either.” She stepped back. “Fight your own battles, Octavian, don’t drag others down with you. Mud slinging isn’t your strong suit.” Octavian’s snarl relaxed a little as he walked away, this wouldn’t be the last fight between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the most self indulgent fic ever, Rick was never going to give me any extensive backstory for Gwen and Dakota so I have to do everything myself.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!


	2. DAKOTA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are so insensitive to the memory of the Kennedys."

“Uh, Dakota?”

“Yes, Frank the Tank?”

“Do you think now is the time to be mixing drinks?” According to Frank, it was not the time to be mixing drinks, but it was more the right time for Dakota. Here he was: sitting on his bunk in the barracks, putting kool-aid into his flask, a bottle of vodka by his foot. How Dakota got contraband into Camp was his secret (children of Mercury and monthly allowances), and as long as he used in moderation, no one was the wiser. At least, that’s what he liked to think, often times his measuring of the alcohol was a bit off, two shots turned into four or five.

“Apparently not,” Dakota commented,  _ My classic movie references are lost on the youth. _ He thought. Dakota screwed the top of his flask and shoved it into his back pocket, bumping his head with a  _ thud _ on the top bunk in the process. Dakota was above average in the height department, his bunk was too short lengthwise and when he sat down in his bunk his head just touched the bottom of the top bunk “What can I do for you?” He groaned. Frank winced, either at Dakota’s head or for what he was about to ask.

Dakota stared at him patiently, waiting for whatever Frank had come to bother him about. Dakota had duties as Centurion, he didn’t do them too often unless Gwen was around, but he did listen to his fellow campers when they came up to them. If Gwen was involved, he had no choice but to go with her, she wouldn’t let him get away with it. If Gwen wasn’t his best friend, it may have been a different story; he listened to Reyna, and to Jason when he was still around, but that was more out of fear than anything. “Is this about your patrol tomorrow?” Dakota guessed.

“Yes,” Frank shook his head, still not really making eye-contact with Dakota. “I was thinking about uh… Having someone go with me.” Dakota started to leave the barracks, signaling for Frank to follow him. Dakota didn’t feel too energized after his morning jog as he usually did, it may had been the everything-bagel he had, or the kool-aid he had already drunken.

“That’s typically how it goes,” Dakota commented with feigned interest. It wasn’t that Dakota didn’t like Frank, quite the opposite. What Dakota didn’t like was Frank’s professionalism around him, especially when he was very sober. “Wasn’t planning on having you patrol the Berkley entrance by yourself, Frank.” The two of them made their way to the mess hall, going past the training quarters.

“Ha,” Frank gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, of course.” Dakota took a deep sigh and stopped Frank from walking.

“Dude, what is this really about?” Frank’s face turned bright red, his brown eyes bouncing around nervously, before landing towards the stables. Shoveling hay and poop was Hazel; surely not the most attractive job in Camp, but Frank didn’t seem to mind. Frank’s crush on Hazel was as cute as it was obvious, sometimes a little too cute and obvious. “You’ve got it bad.”

“What?” Frank reacted. “No! I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Sure you don’t, casanova,” Dakota took out his flask and opened it. “Hazel’s cute, though. A bit young, but cute.” Dakota took a swig of his drink, sickeningly sweet with a kick at the end. “So, you want her to patrol with you tomorrow?”

“No!” Frank objected, his face deep red.

“Fine.”

“Gods, you’re the worst.” Frank covered his face, Dakota grinned.

“Hey Hazel!” Dakota called, attracting Hazel’s attention. The young teen beamed at seeing them and hurried over to them, her curly golden brown hair bouncing around her face. Dakota liked Hazel, she reminded him of Gwen when they first met. He liked her bright-eyed and bushy-tailed personality, but there was clearly more to her than her age. “Change of plans for tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Her nose wrinkling and brow furrowing in worry.

“You and Frank will watch the Berkley entrance tomorrow morning,” Dakota made a subtle wink towards Frank, or at least he hoped it was. Hazel didn’t notice, in fact she smiled at Frank.  _ Ah yes _ , Dakota thought,  _ matchmaking at its finest _ . Satisfied, Dakota took a swig of his flask and dismissed both of them. Frank gave Dakota a thumbs up as he walked away with Hazel,  _ They better have an open bar at their wedding _ .

As per usual, Dakota was avoiding his duties. It was close to lunchtime and he was suppose to be checking inventory in the armory, but he couldn’t be bothered, not when it was clear that there was enough pointy swords to go around. Dakota couldn’t tell if his disregard for purpose was procrastination or if it was brain related. His mother’s family had a history of mental illness, and with Bacchus as his father, his head is mixed cocktail of strange. 

He sat himself down on a bench, shooing off a faun that had fallen asleep beneath it, and began watching campers train on the horses and pegasi. Dakota wasn’t particularly fond of horses, they were a bit too bumpy for his tastes (pegasi more so), but if he had to use them then he could. In all aspects, Dakota should thrive in Camp; he’s physically fit, more than proficient in hand-to-hand combat, and he has a leadership position. However when Dakota thought about all of his responsibilities it made him want to take a shot, to take several shots in quick succession, to basically shotgun a whole bottle of fireball whiskey. Closing his eyes, Dakota tried to calm down, slowly opening and closing his flask.

* * *

 

_ “But what if I don’t want to go!” Grasping his mother’s skirt in his hands, Dakota cried and cried, his nose becoming stuffed. His mother knelt down, her long black braid touched the ground next to her, she tried to calm him down by wiping away some of his tears. “Mommy, I don’t wanna go!” Dakota’s mother shushed him, his mother’s calm demeanor was slipping a bit. _

_ Behind them, the wolf Lupa loomed over, her dark grey fur shifted in the cool wind. At the age of eight years old, Dakota had started having dreams of monsters, of unspeakable madness, and of a great wolf calling to him. His mother thought it must be his spirit animal giving him guidance, but when the monsters started prowling near their desert home, Dakota’s mother then saw them as terrible omens. It was then that Lupa appeared, telling Dakota that she must go with him; to train and become a great warrior. _

_ “Dakota,” his mother whispered. “You have to go.” Dakota’s mother was always strict, but not without reason, and Dakota knew she had her reasons for making him leave. Despite this, all he wanted was to stay; to do the insane amount of chores his mother had him do, sit in his clay house during a heat wave with two fans blasting on his face, and to watch the ranchers go by with their herds. “You know that this is your purpose.” Dakota sniffed, trying to pull himself together. _

_ Slowly, Dakota turned towards Lupa, her glowing yellow eyes staring him down. A cold feeling washed over him, he shivered as he looked back to his mother. Dakota’s mother had stood up, and was slowly walking backwards, her eyes locked on the wolf. Just like that, Dakota’s mother was gone, literally leaving him to the wolves. _

Come, cub _ , the wolf said.  _ You have much to learn _. _

* * *

 

His eyes opened. Everything was the same, life continued as usual, and Dakota took a sip from his flask. Too sweet, but still very strong after only a couple sips, his head bobbing a little from side to side. Dakota figured he should try to nap a little, sleep off some of his intoxication.

“Hey,”  _ Or not _ . Gwen touched his shoulder, snapping Dakota’s attention away from the horses. She looked tired, more tired than she did this morning, her eyebrows was wrinkled with worry. Now Dakota’s heart was doing that thing where it practically jumps out of his chest anytime he was near Gwen, despite everything. It had been an ongoing occurrence for the past few years, and considering his only coping mechanism for it was drinking, there seemed to be no helping it. She sat down next to Dakota in a huff, Gwen might need a nap more than Dakota did. “Did you check in with Francis?” She asked.

“Uh,” Dakota blanked on what he needed to check in with Francis about. “Yeah, I did.”

“Liar,” Gwen smirked, tugging at his heart a bit. It was completely inconvenient that Dakota was feeling this way about his best friend; at first he thought it was just teenage hormones where he imagined having sex with his friends without any real attraction, but this was not the case, there was more to it, there were roots. “You know I can’t always be covering for you.” Dakota waved her comment off nonchalantly.

Gwen rested her head on his shoulder, crossing her arms. This was how it always had been them; casual affection between two best friends. His attraction towards Gwen constantly confused him, especially when he still wasn’t sure what he was attracted to. He liked her long red hair and her warm brown eyes, and he kind of hated that he liked it as much as he did. Their simple acts of friendly intimacy made his heart race almost uncontrollably, but he had to bottle the feelings up, not make things weird between them.

It was easy to get along as kids, at least Dakota thought it was. They fought a lot, but it was always pretty one sided; Gwen was a stickler for rules, not wanting to get in trouble. Dakota didn’t hate everything about the camp, but he hated that they made him cut his hair; all the men he grew up with kept their hair long, it was a part of his life. When he was a kid it made him feel like Samson, that all his strength came from his hair. Since Dakota grew up spending time in doctors offices with constant checkups on his XXYY syndrome, he had believed for a time that the only thing not wrong with him was his black curly hair. Dakota and Gwen’s biggest fight was over hair: when they were ten, Dakota was forced to cut his hair that kept getting in his face, and Gwen nagged and nagged him about it for a week. Then finally, Gwen cut her own hair painfully short, taking a knife and cutting her neck in the process. The image of blood running down her neck has never escaped his memory.

But kids do stupid things, and Gwen has made a lot of sacrifices for Dakota, who wouldn’t fall for someone like that? “You don’t always have to cover for me,” He says, shaking his head in a casual manner. “I’m getting old enough that I should just take responsibility for my laziness.” 

Gwen sat up, her brows furrowing to a perfect wrinkle in the middle, a small smirk curled on her lip. “Where did this come from?”

“What do you mean?”

“This epiphany you just had about growing up and taking responsibility.” Gwen chuckled a little, which a part of Dakota liked, and the other knew she was laughing at him. “Since when did you care so much?”

“Since now,” Dakota defended, crossing his arms. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because I found you about to take a nap instead of getting the gladiator fight ready for tonight.” Gwen had a point, plus Dakota’s attempt at being mature was pretty half assed, he didn’t really care. Gwen squinted, leaning in a bit closer to him. “What’s this about, really?” Dakota felt himself holding his breath, reminding himself to be cool about this, about their closeness. It wasn’t always like it, it was like Dakota woke up one day and suddenly he was very attracted to Gwen and it wasn’t going away like most of his crushes.

Dakota stood up a little too quickly, causing his vision to darken momentarily, and huffed. “It’s nothing, I’m just,” Dakota rubbed his eyes, then pushed his curls away from his face, running his hands through his hair in a nervous manner. “It just feels like a bad day for me.” It was the best way for Dakota to describe it; the feeling that even though he hadn’t done anything that day, or that nothing had happened to him, he still felt horrible. 

“You and me both, but I think I’ve got you beat.” Gwen leaned back on the bench, relaxing in the shade of the olive tree next to her. “I almost got shot with an arrow,” She shrugged, in an almost nonchalant way. Dakota felt his heart sink a little as he sat back on the bench, but if Gwen was calm about it, he would be too.

“Consider myself beat,” Dakota laughed. “Do you think it was some sort of political sabotage? You’re not even praetor yet and people are already trying to make you into a martyr like JFK.” Gwen smiled, shaking her head. “You better handle this Cuban Missile Crisis well, I’m not getting my pink wool jacket covered in brain ju-” Gwen pushed him, laughing at his joke. Dakota tried to keep going, determined to over do it, but Gwen started to cover his mouth, begging him to stop.

“You are so insensitive to the memory of the Kennedys,” Gwen slowly moved her hands from his face, she said this in fake offence.

“They’ve had it too good,” Dakota defended. “Their descendants are living it up in Rhode Island with Taylor Swift, the least they could do is let me joke about them.” Gwen shook her head again at his stupidity, she leaned back and sighed. “You’re okay, though. Right?” Dakota asked.

Gwen nodded, though there was a look in her face that didn’t seem quite there, like she was reliving the experience. As much as Dakota joked, he really was worried, especially with what how Gwen was feeling in the morning. “Can you promise me something?” Dakota grabbed her hand. She looked at him with her deep brown eyes, full of curiosity and want. “Don’t die, no one can put up with me like you can.” Gwen’s smile returned, and she squeezed his hand.

“Don’t worry,” Gwen stood up, bringing Dakota up with him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took way too long but school and mass effect: andromeda took over my life so thats really the only excuse i have. again, comments and kudos are nice!
> 
> (originally posted on 4/2/17, edited on 5/22/17)


	3. GWEN

Gladiator battles weren’t Gwen’s strong suit, out of every Roman War Game they did in Camp it was the one she struggled the most at. She could handle the chariot races, did fine during siege, and Gwen actually thought deathball was fun and exhilarating. But Gladiator battles were terrible and she always came out of it with bruised ribs and a bloody nose, and this night was no different. Despite her better judgement, Gwen wasn’t going to let arrow incident from earlier in the day deter her from being one hundred percent committed to her image of a praetor candidate. It was clear to her that Octavian wanted her out of the picture, in more ways than one; murder seemed a bit extreme, but it was hard to say what he wasn’t willing to do anymore. Gwen was only a little worried about this, after knowing Octavian for so long he seemed as harmless as the teddybears he cut open, but after their stand off, she may have pushed a little too far.

Everyone was getting their armor off in the barracks bathroom, readying themselves for either a late night party or heading into the baths. Gingerly, Gwen started to take off her armor, revealing the hand-shaped bruise around her arm and a dark yellow one in the middle of her chest. At least her armor wouldn’t have to be fixed or mended, so she could just hang it back in the armory. He ear was still ringing from when someone swung a club at her head, hitting the armored earflap of her helmet. She moved her jaw in an attempt to pop her ears, but her jaw hurt even more, probably bruised from the club as well. Gwen is half convinced that Octavian paid her competitors to rough her up more than necessary, but what Gwen didn’t do well in fighting she did great in dodging. She probably would’ve been beat up worst if she wasn’t quick at reacting, or maybe she was just lucky.  _ Thanks, Dad _ , she thought to herself. 

Gwen uncorked a small bottle of nectar and took a small sip, letting the syrupy drink flood her mouth, tasting like the warm lemonade her mother would make for Gwen when she was sick. She hadn’t written to her family in a while, her two older half brothers were already finishing with college, while her younger sister was in the middle of high school and constantly complained to Gwen about it. Times like this made Gwen really miss her mom. As she drank, Gwen could feel her bruises cool down and fade from her skin, she snapped her fingers by her ear to make sure he hearing was coming back.

“Hey, Gwen.” Gwen turned to see Reyna in her light purple bathrobe, Reyna’s usual braid was twisted into a bun on the top of her head. As usual Reyna didn’t participate fully in the gladiator fights, instead she served like the Emperor; approving or disapproving whether or not a fight ends. Thankfully no died when Reyna put her thumb down during gladiator battles, but given how harshly Gwen was beaten, at the time Gwen would’ve wanted nothing more but death. “Are you going into the baths?” Reyna’s head tilted in question.

Gwen gave a full body sigh. “Gods, yes.” Gwen had stripped down to her shorts, and as she got up to go with Reyna she slipped her feet into sandals and grabbed her sweatshirt, putting it on before walking out into the bunk area. People had already started to go to bed, sleeping off the harsh battles, while others were engaging in quiet conversation. Reyna and Gwen were going by Dakota, which lead Gwen to assume he had already passed out since he was laying down in his bunk, but as Gwen passed by she felt her hand get taken. Stopping at Dakota’s bunk, she saw one of his blue eyes open.

“Are you alright?” Dakota mumbled. “I didn’t get a chance to catch up after the battle.” Gwen felt a smile bloom across her face, a chuckle bubbling in her chest. She didn’t know how to feel about Dakota showing concern for her; it’s not as if it was uncommon with them, they worked together and made constant check-in with each other to see how they were doing. But something made her heart flutter a little; the feel of his hand around her arm, the little wrinkle of worry on his brow, how his shirt was hitched a little at the bottom, revealing a sliver of skin.

Gwen nodded, “I’ll be better after I take a bath,” Gwen nodded towards Reyna, who stood next to her with her arms crossed. Reyna wasn’t upset or impatient, this was simply her resting stance. Gwen’s hand gripped his hand as his was still holding hers, squeezing it briefly before letting go, and Dakota’s hand drifted off of hers. Gwen waved a little and went on with Reyna again, exiting the barracks into the dimly lit street of the camp and heading to the baths, billowing steam rising into the starry sky. Reyna and Gwen didn’t bathe together often, but since Gwen’s growing interest in becoming praetor, the two were known to exchange words everyday. Gwen could see herself working with Reyna, she felt up to Reyna’s professionalism, and it helped that they’ve known each other for at least ten years.

Passing by a few half naked campers, and much to their dismay a few naked lars, Gwen and Reyna entered the private baths. Modesty meant nothing around Camp Jupiter, so it wasn’t the first time Gwen and Reyna saw each other naked, Reyna situated herself in a corner of the bathing pool. The steam and bubbles gave a sense of coverage, especially in the low torch lighting, the ceiling open to the night sky. Gwen stripped and got into the bath as well, feeling the warm water already loosening tension in her legs, the feeling going up as she descended into the water. Gwen didn’t mind being in the baths with everyone else, usually she went in just for hygiene purposes, get in and get out, but if Reyna invited her, they’d relax in the private baths. 

“I feel like you’re showing favoritism,” Gwen warned once, to which Reyna shrugged.

“No one has complained so far,” Reyna said. Gwen supposed the fact that they only bathe together on rare occasions that it wouldn’t warrant too much attention. Gwen lowered her body deeper into the warm water, her head bobbing above the surface with her mouth submerged. Reyna, to the right of Gwen, had relaxed into the bath, her head resting in the corner. Gwen’s hands touched her bruises, testing to see if the nectar had fully worked, and sure enough it had.

Gwen sighed, “What a night,” she rested her head back. “Here I thought I was getting used to near death experiences.” Reyna chuckled, her eyes closed in content.

“Be thankful you were not fighting Dakota,” Reyna commented. “Despite his constant inebriation, when he’s fighting he can be as fiercely as a berserker.” Reyna’s dark eyes landed on Gwen, “He’s like a wild animal.” Gwen was so busy trying not to die during her own fights that she didn’t even see Dakota, though as she recalls the fight she may have at least  _ heard _ his fights. Gwen knew that Dakota could be frightening in battle, despite his indifference to the Roman lifestyle and expectation he really was a perfect soldier. She remembered during one war game when Dakota had chugged a bunch of fruit punch kool-aid, staining his teeth and mouth a bright red. Barring his teeth in anger, his bright blue eyes full of furry.

Even in the water, Gwen shivered at the memory of Dakota’s face. It wasn’t something she liked to think about, Dakota made her feel warm and safe, and that maddening part of him made her stomach churn. Taking a deep breath, Gwen dunked her head into the water, the rushing sound of water deafened everything else, the only thing she could see in the water were her legs and the floor of the bath. She stayed under the water for a moment, rubbing at her hair that tangled around her hair around her vision, and she only came up when he chest began to hurt and bubbles sprang from her lips. Coming up for air, Gwen’s eyes stung briefly, she tried to blink away the water, her vision coming back.

“Gwen,” Reyna’s voice pulled Gwen out of her thoughts, she had sat forward in the bath, leaning in closer to Gwen. “Do you think Jason is still alive?” Gwen was taken aback, despite all the effort Reyna went into the search of Jason, she rarely talked about him in casual conversation. Reyna was strong and powerful in more ways than one, she never showed a vulnerable side to anyone, but Gwen knew how important Jason was to Reyna. Jason was Gwen’s friend, too, but not in the same way as he was with Reyna. Gwen knew that Reyna was putting a lot of trust into Gwen by asking this; by bearing this pain to her.

“Yes,” Gwen moved her wet hair, draping it across one of her shoulders. “Yes of course, you know I do.” Reyna looked down into the water, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. The praetor took a breath before she continued.

“There’s going to be a senate meeting in two days,” Reyna’s frown deepened. “And I have to pick a new praetor.” Gwen felt her heart swell and her stomach drop simultaneously, it was what she was hoping for, but not quite like this. “There are lars that think I should just give up on finding Jason, and I’ve definitely been feeling the pressure to choose someone to replace him.” Under the water, Gwen reached for Reyna’s hand to hold, and Reyna let her take it. Their hands were already pruning.

“I have to be honest,” Reyna’s brown eyes landed on Gwen’s, captivating her. “I really want you as praetor.” Gwen bit down her lip, trying to hide her smile. “And I ultimately make the deciding choice but, you have to do something.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a perfect candidate,” Reyna reassured. “You’re already well liked around camp, even if the Fifth Cohort isn’t…” Reyna didn’t elaborate, but Gwen knew what she meant; they weren’t prestigious, a ragtag group of nobodies, Gwen never forgot her place. “But you’ve impressed a lot of people, you just need one extra push to get the whole camp on your side. The way I see it, much of Ancient Rome ridiculed Claudius because of his disability, tried to make him doubt his ability, yet what would we be without him?” Gwen let go of Reyna’s hand and leaned back into the side of the pool, her arms resting on the edge. Gwen wasn’t sure if Claudius was the best example, but at least Reyna didn’t try to compare her to Caesar.

“What do you suggest?” Gwen asked. “Unless you can’t tell me, like you can’t interfere with the campaign process.” 

Reyna shook her head, almost rolling her eyes. “I doubt it, but just in case, you didn’t hear it from me.” The two girl smiled at each other. “We are doing siege tomorrow, if you come up with a really great plan, I’d arrange a fitting for a proper uniform for you.”

Gwen sat forward, making waves in the pool. Here was her chance, all the tools of success were given to her. A part of her still worried; worried for her life, worried about her peers from the Fifth not living up to their potential. But she couldn’t let it get to her, not when Reyna had faith in her. How did that one song go?  _ It’s gonna happen, happen sometime, maybe this time I’ll win. _

“I’ll do it,” Gwen’s pruned hands balled into fists. “You’ll see.”

When Gwen left the baths, she ran all the way to the templed village on the hill. It was pitch dark, cold, and completely against the rules. She shivered with her wet hair flying in the wind, her breathing growing heavier as she went up the incline. Despite all this, a big fat grin was spreading across her face; a feeling of hope spreading through her. With the Mercury shrine in sight, Gwen slowed down until she walked into it. The architecture of the shrine was similar to that of Thomas Jefferson’s memorial in Washington DC; circular with pillars surrounding the circumference, a tall bronze statue of Mercury in the middle. The only light in the shrine was from a pyre in front of the statue, casting intense shadows across it, when the light flickered it made it look as if it was breathing.

Gwen circled the statue for a moment, studying it’s craftsmanship; Mercury’s signature caduceus and winged helmet were all accounted for, Gwen thought could’ve been wearing a little more than the short tunic the statue sported, but maybe because it actually looked like him it unnerved her a bit. Gwen prided on the fact that she looked more like her mom than anything, but the slight upturn of her nose she clearly got from Mercury, the impish look she got on her face when she was feeling clever. Most of all, Gwen had her father’s luck.

She kneeled down at the pyre, the heat of the fire warming her face, drying the sweat from her brow. Looking up at her father’s statued face, she remembered the last time she saw him in person.  _ Even if you don’t believe in me _ , he said,  _ I believe in you _ . Gwen didn’t have anything to burn, she usually didn’t, but she liked to talk to Mercury anyways, knowing full well he might not be listening.

“I have a chance,” Gwen said. “I have a chance at being praetor. I’ve wanted this for a while, I never really thought I’d make it this far.” Gwen looked at her hands for a moment, studying the sunspots on the back of her hands. “I know I have you to thank, for the amount of luck I have.” She smiled, looking back up at the statue. “So thank you, father.” Gwen got up to leave, and as she turned she could’ve sworn the statue winked at her. 

As Gwen ran back to the barracks before lights out, miles and miles and miles away from camp, something was coming. No, not something, some _ one _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on 4/15/17, edited on 5/22/17


	4. DAKOTA

_ “It’s cold as balls here!” _

_ There’s a gasp, “You can’t say that, that’s a bad word!” _

_ “Well I said it, whatever god doesn’t like it ought to smite me right now!” There’s a roll of thunder that washes over the Wolf House. The young demigods mutter and cry, while the great wolf Lupa goes to hush them. Dakota had been the one to say the bad word, though he has yet to be prosecuted for it. Since arriving at the Wolf House, he’s done nothing but use the various curses and swears he had heard from his mom and the ranchers that went into his mom’s shop. Some were obvious: something be hot or cold as balls, bullshit, and even hot damn. Why some people didn’t give a rat’s ass was beyond him, but he was only seven so maybe it would mean something to him later. _

_ While the thunder had startled him, Dakota still didn’t quite believe in the godly entities that had conceived him and all the kids in the burnt down mansion in Glen Ellen. His mother had taught him that nature had a mind of it’s own, that every tree and plant and animal had a life all on it’s own, no one controlled them. The children around him were settling down, all on cots getting ready for bed. The only other kid to not react to the thunder was a girl sitting by a puddle, she was staring at the hole in the ceiling, a steady sprinkling of rain coming down from it. No one liked to sleep by the leaks in the ceiling, it made people sick and was horrifically cold, but this girl’s hand was outstretched towards the rain. Beads of water falling on her tan skin, mixing with the healthy sprinkling of freckles that covered her arms. _

_ As Dakota went to lie down, he kept watching the girl, who was still watching the rain come down. It was like she had never seen rain before, a small smile curving on her face. Dakota would laugh in the morning when she is sniffling the whole day, that he was certain of. He was also certain that he had never looked at anything with as much love and fascination as this girl looked at the rain coming down from the roof. But he would eventually. _

* * *

 

Dakota woke up, his head spinning slightly. From the corner of his vision in the dark barracks he could see Gwen getting down from her bunk. Dakota slowly rolled out of bed; for lack of better words, he felt like shit. His hangover would be gone in an hour, the one upside to being a son of Bacchus was his slight immunity to the negative side effects to alcohol. Since Dakota was feeling particularly  _ punchy _ last night, he drank himself into a stupor, with Frank helping him back into his bunk. After crushing the can of coke he used to mix with his special drink into his forehead, the rest of the night was fuzzy, he thinks Gwen was there briefly, and he’s pretty sure he threw up somewhere. He’s sure he’ll hear about the dumb things he did later.

Mornings were always brisk, but after Gwen and Dakota’s run they always felt warmed up. Dakota discovered his legs were covered in weird bruises, definitely not from the gladiator battles. “How was your night?” Gwen asked, stretching out her arms. The hem of her camp shirt came up a little, Dakota looked away before he could stare for too long.

“Very funny.” Dakota grumbled, touching his toes and stretching his chest down to his legs. His stomach grumbled and ached, Dakota thought for a moment that he might be sick, but the feeling subsided. It was lucky they always went on their runs so early, the sun hadn’t risen yet so his eyes weren’t hurting, but by the time they get back to camp he’ll be wearing sun glasses for the rest of the day.

“When I saw you last night you didn’t seem that smashed,” Gwen tied her hair back into a bun. “You were in you bunk by then.

“Ah, so I  _ did _ see you.” Dakota stood up, ready to start their run. “I’ve been trying to remember what happened ever since I woke up.”

“It would probably help if you didn’t drink so much.”

“Come on, I’ve always had issues with memory.” Dakota was the quintessential problem child growing up, but that was mostly thanks to all his health problems. He hated going to the doctor and to therapy; he didn’t speak right, his balance was off when he walked, he had to get a lot of shots. Dakota would say he’s in perfect health at this point, aside from the liver failure he was sure to get eventually. The extra chromosomes he had were all thanks to weird genetics, Bacchus could take all the credit.

Running, exercise, the Roman lifestyle was the best way to keep him acting normal, keep him from getting sick. It was awful; the extra protein and excessive weight training to maintain the muscle tone, the testosterone shots that always affected his mood more than anything, and the weird conflicting sex dreams. Though, now that Dakota thought about it those dreams probably have nothing to do his condition.

“I know,” Gwen squeezed his arm, “Just pulling your leg.” With a wink, she started to jog ahead of him, he started to follow. “By the way, we’re building a fort today.”

Dakota groaned, “Please let it be one made of blankets.” He prayed. Building a fort meant they were going to do a siege battle tonight, easily Dakota’s least favorite battle activity. It was all about strategy and brute force, try not to get shot by an arrow or stabbed while getting a large flag. It was always complete chaos, too many people ended up getting hurt and wind up  spend the night in first aid. It also meant all the centurions would spend the day building the fort and are then expected to lead the cohorts into battle.

The two of them continued their run in near silence, they were focusing on not exhausting themselves. So much of their life was constant company, very little of Dakota’s daily life was not shared with Gwen. He couldn’t on his hand the number of times a day he’s looked next to him and she was there, eating, sitting, reading, napping. The sun was rising, setting the sky up in flames, Dakota glanced over at Gwen. Her copper hair tied up into a bun, coming undone from the exercise, the sunlight reflecting off her tan and freckled skin. Everything about her reminded him of the color red; her hair, her face, her personality.

Dakota really liked the color red.

They made it to New Rome, greeting Terminus before grabbing breakfast. “I put Frank and Hazel on morning watch at the Berkeley entrance.” Dakota told Gwen, taking a bite of his croissant.

Gwen’s eyebrows went up, she grinned. “Nice work, Cupid.”

“I figured you’d appreciate that.”

“Is it weird that we’re trying to set up a thirteen year old with a sixteen year old?” Gwen cringed a little. “But they’re like… Innocent puppies. Right?”

“Frank is pretty harmless,” Dakota agreed. “Plus I doubt either of them will make a move anytime soon.” Gwen hummed in agreement, stuffing the rest of her bagel in her mouth, her cheeks distended a little. 

Gwen started stretching again, preparing to jog back to Camp. Dakota wanted time to stop right there, he wanted to live in this moment forever. He wanted to only ever eat this particular croissant, over and over again, to see this particular sunrise. He wanted Gwen to always be like how she is right now, with the sunshine lighting her up in the best way. Gwen wasn’t perfect, she was sweaty and there were bags under her eyes, but Dakota wanted her to be like that forever. Perfectly imperfect.

* * *

 

Before noon, the Centurions and a group of legionnaires had already built the foundation and had started stacking and cementing the bricks of the walls. With it being a hot and sunny day, it wouldn’t take long for the cement to dry in time for the evening’s battle, but they still had to work fast. They did siege battles about every other week, so it wasn’t a huge challenge to build the forts, but it was tedious and grueling work. Dakota would take numerous breaks from getting winded, he’d drink from his flask, his vision getting distorted.

No one faulted him for getting this way, it was expected that he’d act this way, it didn’t make Dakota feel any better. His eyes were too light for the harsh sunlight, his dark hair trapped in all the heat, turning him into a sweaty and cranky mess. A couple of the builders rolled their eyes, seeing Dakota taking yet another break while his cement dried, but thankfully Gwen was working hard. Her level of commitment was always way above everyone else, Dakota could see that they appreciated it. Maybe it helped that Dakota was terrible in comparison to Gwen, the Fifth Cohort might be full of losers and nobodies but at least Gwen was the shiny dollar coin in a handful of pennies.

Looking out on the Fields of Mars, Dakota saw the remains of last night’s gladiator fights, the pit that had been dug out that has now been filled again, leaving a red clay mount that would be flattened once the siege started. Trenches had already been dug out Broken spears and shields riddled the grass and mud, a scarred landscape that had been fertilized with blood, sweat, and tears of generations of demigods. All for what? Glory? For the Gods? Was it really worth it? Death in Camp wasn’t common, despite knowing that the life of a demigod was rife with danger and possible death, but everyone knew it happened.

Dakota wasn’t close to him mom anymore, but he couldn’t imagine being one of those idiots that gets himself killed, to leave his mom alone forever like that. It didn’t seem worth it to him sometimes.

In the distance, Dakota could see the Camp, it’s columns and river wrapping around it. In fact, he could see the river water crashing into each other, like it was an ocean tide. It was actually rising, geysers of water shooting up into the sky. Dakota looked at his flask, unsure of how much alcohol he had actually put in there, for this was surely a hallucination. The faint sound of shouting was coming from camp, from near the river.

“What the fuck,” Dakota breathed.

“Language,” Someone warned him.

“Don’t ‘language’ me, dumbass. Look!” Just as Dakota had attracted the attention of the Centurions, a flash of light came from Camp. Something was happening, something big. With haste, the Centurions got on their chariots that took them to the Fields of Mars and made way to Camp. The motion made Dakota feel sick as he stood next to Gwen, his vision was getting blurred from the speed and mild intoxication. Gwen was silent as she held the reins of the horse pulling the chariot, her knuckles were white.

Maybe Gwen was right, he thought. Maybe something bad  _ was _ going to happen, maybe something bad was happening right now. The commotion had settled some by the time the Centurions arrived back at Camp, people were milling about and talking in frantic voices. Gwen got off even before her chariot had come to a complete stop, leaving Dakota to slump down into the cart, feeling dizzy and nauseous. He was delirious, watching all of the campers go around in a hurry, their words get muffled and quiet as Dakota feels himself start to fall asleep. As his head tips forward, the feeling of falling wakes him up briefly. He had to find Gwen.

Stumbling, Dakota got out of the chariot and headed towards the barracks, hoping Gwen would be gathering intel from campers. There was a crowd gathered around the Praetor quarters that was quickly being dispelled. “Go back to your duties!” Someone broke out the crowd, getting people to move. Gwen came out from the crowd with Frank and Hazel, walking towards Dakota. Frank and Hazel’s armor was practically melting off of them, as if acid had been spilled onto them.

“What happened?” Dakota slurred. “What’s going on?” Gwen helped Hazel out of her armor, her brow furrowed.

“There was a guy,” Frank began to explain. “He just showed up at the entrance, he was being followed by these monsters.”

“Gorgons,” Hazel clarified, she seemed to be relieved to have her armor off. She took off her helmet, her cloud of hair puffing out. “And the guy had this lady on his back.”

“So a demigod, yeah?” Dakota took off Frank’s helmet, his forehead coated in sweat.

“Yes,” Frank undid his chest piece and continued his explanation. “And that’s when the water started moving.”

“Moving?” So Dakota was right, it wasn’t a drunk hallucination.

“Yeah!” Hazel enthused. “The guy, he could control the water!” A shiver ran down Dakota’s back, he also noticed how quiet Gwen had been. “And the gorgons, they weren’t dying. That was weird. We were helping him fight them off but it just wasn’t working.” Gwen’s face blanched.

“Hey hey hey,” Dakota put his arms around Hazel and Frank, which was a feat since Frank was just at his height while Hazel was a good foot shorter than him. “Maybe you can fill us in later. We have to get back to building the fort of siege tonight.” Hazel and Frank both gave him a look. “What?”

“Since when have you taken initiative for doing work?” Hazel questioned, her lips curling into a grin. Dakota pushed them half-heartedly.

“Get going, before I puke kool-aid on you.” Dakota waved them off before turning towards Gwen, who was looking down at her shoes. Gwen then leaned into Dakota, her face buried into his chest. Dakota patted her head; he wanted to hug her, for his hands to clench at her shirt and keep her on him, but he wouldn’t.

He could feel her breath blow down his shirt, her back rising and falling in quick succession. She was panicking, but he couldn’t do anything, not when she was like this. They were getting odd looks, especially with Dakota playing with her hair. “Hey,” Dakota whispered. “Do you wanna sip of my special drink?” Gwen’s shoulders began to shake a little, he hoped it was from laughing.

She looked up at him, her eyes glossy and her lip trembling a little. “Is it bad that I kind of do?” She whimpered. Dakota chuckled, causing Gwen to laugh a little too. Dakota wrapped his arm around Gwen’s shoulder, guiding her to the chariot they were about to take back to the Fields. “Oh, D,” Gwen groaned, her hands cupping the sides of her face. “I was right, something terrible is going to happen! The guy, they’re saying he’s a son of Neptune.”

Dakota winced, and then cringed. For a split second he was worried about Camp superstition, how everyone hated anything having to do with Neptune, but for good reason. “He can’t be any worse than me,” Dakota joked. Gwen hit his chest, with maybe more force than he would’ve expected.

“I’m serious, Dakota,” Gwen’s face hardened into worry and anger. “This is really bad. The woman he had on his back, it was  _ Juno _ .” Dakota thought about making a joke about a pregnant Ellen Page, but that was because he was now suddenly terrified. That must’ve been the light they had seen from the Fields, it was the goddess Juno. “I don’t know what all this means but… It’s not good, at all.”

Dakota grabbed his flask from his pocket, but before he could take a drink, Gwen took it from him and took a long swig from it. Her face distorted and cringed from the taste, coughing a little too. “Gods!” She choked. “You drink that everyday?”

“Not this exact mixture,” Dakota tipped the flask over, only a drip came out. “It’s better cold anyway.”

“That can’t be healthy.” Gwen stuck her tongue out, trying to get the taste of alcohol out of her mouth.

“Good thing my liver is lined with lead.” Dakota put the flask back into his pocket, debating whether or not he should refill it before going back to work. “I told Hazel a while back that I only get drunk off of kool-aid, ‘didn’t have the heart to tell her that I drink whiskey and wine almost exclusively.”

“You’re the poster child of underage drinking,” Gwen grimaced, a hit of disappointment had washed over her face, clearly not amused by Dakota’s habits. Despite the fact that she knows he drinks a lot, Dakota can tell that Gwen wished he was better about. He felt his heart clench a little, his head tipping down to look at the ground. Sober, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time.

And then Gwen grabbed his hand, slowly. Her fingers interlocking with his, and she squeezed his hand. Just this was enough, enough for him to feel intoxicated again. He got drunk off of her kindness, her company, her touch. “Just go easy on the stuff,” Gwen cautioned. “Especially tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dakota smiled at her, and Gwen returned it. She then looked away, her hand dropping his slowly. Dakota followed her lead, someone was leaving the Praetor quarters. Hazel was leading someone, the demigod that controlled water and brought Juno into Camp. The son of Neptune seemed like he had seen better days; his backpack was ragged, and whatever was on his holey and dirty orange shirt had long since faded away. He had dark, wavy hair, and a deep farmer’s tan. Dakota wasn’t sure if he was good looking, since his vision was still iffy, but that was beside the point.

Whoever he was, he was trouble. “Maybe he won’t stay long.” Dakota suggested, but Gwen didn’t seem convinced. “Come on, as much as I hate to say it, we better get back to work.”


	5. GWEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I thought I was done burying children. But sometimes wishes aren't meant to come true, it was probably too much to ask for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I KNOW THIS TOOK ME 5EVER BUT ITS DONE AND I WONT PROCRASTINATE THIS FIC ANY LONGER
> 
> (if you would like to hear the heartbreaking song that goes with THAT scene, please look up "long time traveller" by the wailin' jennys. THANKS!)

There was a mandatory assembly in camp; seeing that there was a new legionnaire, he needed to be sorted into his cohort. The centurions and legionnaires working on the fortress finished just in time and Gwen and Dakota had to arrange their cohort for said assembly. Recalling her own sorting, Gwen knows the anxious feeling all too well; the crowd of eyes and whispers as you stand in front of an entire army of Romans. Its meant to be an important moment in a legionnaire's life, the beginning of a long and illustrious career, but it feels like an execution. For decades the fifth cohort has been the leftover piles, a group of nobodies that more than likely wouldn’t last a day in a real battle, Gwen’s never thought that way but she knows that how people viewed them as. With no powers or her own, the only thing signifying her parental lineage was her incredible luck and her great-grandmother that lived in New Rome when it was rebuilt in Oakland Hills.

Typically a group of young campers came in and were sorted all at once, with one person being sorted it felt like a giant waste of time. “I don’t want to carry the banner,” Jacob, a young member of the fifth cohort was draped in leopard skins and was given the duty of raising the cohort banner.

“You always carry it, Newsie.” Dakota grumbled, looking over the list of campers in their cohort. Gwen could tell he was cranky, after working for hours and not refilling his flask, he was acting a bit ornery. Gwen sighed turning to Jacob.

“Just for today, we’d like you to hold it up.” She tells him. “We’ll find someone else, okay?” Jacob agreed, nodding while looking down at the ground. Everyone in camp was crowded into the area in front of the barracks, beginning to form their lines. As Gwen looked through everyone and made a couple people stand up straighter, she noticed a couple people were missing. She panicked for a moment, worrying about what it would look like to not have a full cohort. Dakota was doing roll call, and almost done with it, too. Gwen went to the front of the line, her toga draped over her armor and a sword and shield in hand.

Octavian, Reyna, and Percy were all standing before the camp. Looking at them, Gwen was a mix of uncomfortable emotions. Octavian, her competition, the bane of her existence. She felt her skin crawl as she remembered his words yesterday, the way he looked at her like he could squish her with the squeeze of his fist. Reyna, an ally in her daily life but still an imposing force. If Gwen became Praetor, would she really be Reyna’s equal. And then there was Percy, the supposed son of Neptune. Gwen knew that she should mistrust him, children of Neptune were cursed, it wasn’t coincidence that terrible things had happened in Camp Jupiter’s history because of them. Yet as Gwen studied him, she saw something almost familiar in him: he feigned a casual attitude, he was clearly nervous and confused by everything going on.

Percy wasn’t much younger than Gwen, he had to be at least seventeen, but she could see her younger self in him. She found herself sympathizing with him. Gwen’s attention went to the entrance, when Hazel and Nico Di Angelo came in just in the knick of time. Gwen sighed in relief as Hazel fell in line as Dakota called her name for roll call. This was when it started; when the standard-bearer lifted the flag on Octavian’s word, no eagle to represent it. Reyna and Octavian introduced Percy, stating that he was responsible for the fight with the Gorgons in the morning, that he was ready to serve the camp based on Octavian’s entrails.

Now it was time for him to be claimed, and the camp was silent, deadly silent. Gwen had no reason to stand up for Percy: he had no credentials, he was a son of Neptune, he was the epitome of trouble. He would be the final nail in the coffin that was the fifth cohort, and Gwen didn’t want to be lowered down just yet. She could see Percy’s face get darker, a crestfallen expression washed over any confidence that may have remained.

“He saved my life!” Frank stepped up, causing a stir. Reyna immediately dismissed him, reminding him of his place; he was on  _ probatio _ . With no godly parent to claim, he had a lower standing than anyone in camp. Gwen’s heart ached for him, the feeling of not being heard was all too familiar.

“What Frank means is that Percy saved both our lives,” Hazel continued, she was a proper member of the legion, her voice would not fall on deaf ears. Gwen felt a sense of pride for her charges, that they would be willing to stand up for someone, even if they were more trouble than they’re worth. There was, however, a great a terrible feeling that was sinking into her stomach. If Percy is in the fifth cohort, he would seem less like a threat, he wouldn’t be taken seriously. It was what Octavian wanted, and it was probably what Reyna wanted to. She wondered if she ever really had a chance.

Dakota looked at Gwen, his face searching for an answer from her. She felt her throat close up, that at any second she might start crying. Her campaign for praetor ended before it would ever really begin, letting Percy Jackson in would be the Jenga piece that brought everything down. Gwen gives Dakota a slight nod, he returned it. “My cohort has spoken. We accept the recruit.”

* * *

 

The feeling continued during dinner, she reclined on her side in the Roman-esc dining tables at the back of the mess hall. Usually Dakota would sit with her, but he was checking out the new recruit, sitting with Frank, Hazel, and Nico. Gwen supposed that Percy was attractive, that would probably be the reason why Dakota would want to get to know them. She didn’t mind sitting in quiet, there were a couple legionnaires sitting with her but weren’t actively engaging with her. She needed the rest, the quiet contemplation before the battle.

The first and second cohort were going to defend the fortress she had spent the day building, with the last three attacking. It seemed an even enough fight: the two most skilled and powerful cohorts against three. She knew she was kidding herself, the first and second cohort always won, no matter what game was being played. Suddenly the grapes didn’t taste as good as they did before, the pasta she ate wasn’t sitting right in her stomach. This battle would’ve been her defining moment, she knew if she was successful in it that she’d be a Praetor, but the odds were stacked against her. She may as well fold.

“You should be seated at the Praetor’s table,” Octavian loomed over her, his skinny frame casting a shadow. “Since that’s where you plan on being.”

“I would,” Gwen sighed. “But I just lost my appetite. You should eat, though, you look like you haven’t had a proper meal in ages.” Octavian rolled his eyes, it wasn’t Gwen’s best work, but it was the most she could do. She’d never willing admit it, but she was a little afraid of Octavian, he was far more ambitious than her, and there wasn’t a lot that he wouldn’t do to get ahead. The other legionnaires moved once they noticed Octavian’s approach, and he sat up in the seat next to her.

“So,” Gwen took a sip of her drink, trying to remain casual. “Did you come here to kick me while I was down? You know, like how you do with puppies?”

“Whatever do you mean?” He feigned ignorance, his thin lips curving into a sly smile that sent a shiver down Gwen’s spine.

“You know that my chances of being Praetor are shot now that Percy Jackson is in my cohort. Just another loser to add to the loser-pile, right?”

Octavian shook his head, “Tisk-tisk, Gwen. The game is just beginning, you don’t quit Monopoly after going to jail.”

“That’s not how Monopoly works and that’s not even close to being the same thing as what’s happening now! Even if Percy can pull his weight he’s still the son of Neptune and no one will trust him. He might get us all killed, for all we know.” Gwen could see him, he was too preoccupied talking, a faun and lar were added to the party. Percy seemed to attract all kinds of attention. Gwen didn’t even know him, and yet she felt like she didn’t need to. The judgemental part of her that didn’t care, the part of her that she usually kept to herself.

Gwen sat up, she had to take a deep breath, try to drown out the sounds of the mess hall. “I should be going,” Octavian said. “I don’t want to be seen fraternizing with the enemy.”

“As if I’d ever fraternize with you,” She hissed. “I don’t play nice with cheaters.”  _ He’s making me use gaming analogies, what a prick! _ Octavian glared at her, sneering slightly. As he turned to leave he bid her farewell with one final warning:

“I’d watch your back if I were you, Gwen.” He said. “You’re almost out of pawns.” Octavian walked away. Gwen’s hands were shaking, but her voice didn’t waver when she yelled back at him.

“Your gaming metaphors suck!” It caught the attention of a few other legionnaires, but it wasn’t loud enough to stop all the conversations. It was just enough for Gwen, enough for her to hide behind wisecrack jokes, like Dakota. Enough for her to take a deep breath, to look at her legionnaires and try to believe. The race wasn’t over yet, she had to fight harder. Diplomacy only got her so far, but if she really wanted to be Praetor she’d have to do it the old fashioned way: by siege.

The horn signalling the end of dinner and beginning of the war games blasted through the hall. All the centurions and officers stood up and exited, grabbing gear and armor. “Ready to bash some heads in?” Dakota, who had been drinking more than Gwen would have liked, asked.

“More than ready.”

* * *

 

“What do you mean we’re going first?” During the long walk to the Fields of Mars, Gwen and Dakota had quietly discussed battle strategies that went beyond ‘just stay alive’. Dakota knew what was at stake and did his best to come up with things that might be helpful, however he was a little drunk and it was a struggle to get him to walk in a straight line. First Percy, then Dakota, and now this: the other cohorts wanted to use the fifth as a human battering ram, essentially. The centurions were going over battle plans for tonight when they told Gwen and Dakota that the fifth would being going through the barriers first, just the fifth cohort.

“Gwen, you can sacrifice the man power.” Delaney from the third cohort explained. “The fifth has more legionnaires in it than anyone.”

“But all of us? By ourselves?” Gwen countered. “I get that this is a winner takes all situation but you don’t even want to give us a fighting chance!” Delaney rolled his eyes, looking to the others to try and help him out. His fellow centurion, Danny, was staring at the ground, not wanting to get involved. Claire and Syd from the fourth cohort were exchanging looks with each other, almost like they were having a silent conversation, a very funny one judging by their smirks. 

“If we want to win we have to be a threat for the other team-” Delaney tried to explain.

“If we’re not a threat then why are you trying to take us out?” Gwen asked. Their faces paled, all avoiding eye contact with Gwen and Dakota. Gwen looked back at Dakota who was standing behind her, he was clearly angry as well. Dakota would never admit it, but he cared a lot about the legionnaires in the fifth cohort, he felt bad whenever a bunch got sent to the infirmary after every siege battle. “But I see how it is,” Gwen continued, she was worried her voice would shake when she spoke, but she spoke clearly and with determination. “It’s just another battle right?” 

No one wanted to agree, but that’s how they felt, Gwen could see that. They didn’t take it seriously, after all they were living in a time of peace and they were all just waiting for the days when they could retire and not have to do these stupid battles every week. It was very un-Roman. “We won’t forget this when the fifth cohort wins.” Gwen smiled, and then turned and went back to their legionnaires with Dakota followings.

“So what’s the plan?” Dakota asked.

“We follow the plan.” Gwen replied.

“The terrible plan that gets most of us killed?”

“Yep!”

“Are you insane?!”

“I’m as insane as you are drunk right now.” Gwen looked back at him. She wasn’t accusing him, if she didn’t want him to be drinking she should’ve watched him closer, should’ve insisted he not do it. A part of her worried he took it as such, but a knowing grin creeped across his face instead. A horn at the first trench went off as Gwen and Dakota approached the fifth cohort.

Dakota pulled out his flask, taking a swig from it before going over the plan to the legionnaires, who were none too pleased with it. “We’ll be lucky this time.” Gwen assured them. She started organizing groups, telling them where to go and what to do. Since they were offense they had Hannibal, the giant war-elephant that Gwen practically adored. She would have to rely on the legionnaire to know what to do, have faith that they’ll know what to do in a pinch. And then there was Frank, Hazel, and Percy.

“Uh…” Gwen had almost forgotten about them. “Show Percy the ropes, keep him alive. Do whatever you can.” It wasn’t the most reassuring command, but it was all that came to mind. They were the weakest links in a rusty chain. “Whoever gets to the wall first, I’ll make sure you get the Mural Crown.” She told everyone. “Victory for the Fifth!”

Her battle cry was met with less enthusiasm than she would’ve liked, but Dakota gave her a high five and that was good enough for her.

And then the battle started with the first line making a shield wall with Dakota leading, with lines from the other cohorts following behind. Hannibal with several legionnaires hanging onto him were a few lines back. Gwen had stationed herself on Hannibal’s trunk, being held by him like a circus peanut. She held tight onto him, petting his bristly and wrinkled skin. Before the first line hit the first wall of defense, she tried to see where Frank, Hazel and Percy had gone, but they were nowhere to be found. She knew they weren’t sitting this battle out, but she hoped at least they were staying safe.

The air was filled with screaming and the clash and clank of metal. The fighting had begun, and Gwen pressed for Hannibal to charge on. But the third and fourth cohorts weren’t even trying, Dakota and the offensive line were getting beat on by the defense team. “Go!” Gwen screamed. “For Gods Sake, MOVE!” Hannibal did as such, but the other lines did not. Gwen met eyes with the centurions, who all grinned at her.  _ Spineless dickheads _ , she thought. The fifth were deadlocked at the gate, unable to move in. Soon the scorpio bombs would be dropped and the water cannons would blast through them.

The cannons were aimed, and just as they would’ve been fired, the water pushed back the other way, hitting the defenders using them. As legionnaires were falling off the side, giant eagles swooped in and caught them, as per usual. The cannons were all failing, exploding back at the defenders. There was no reasonable explanation for it, it was nothing like Gwen had ever seen. She then saw Frank climbing up a rope on the walls.

“What are you waiting for?” He called out. “Attack!”

Gwen snapped out of her shocked trance and repeated Frank’s call. The fifth charged, and as Hannibal crashed through the gates, Gwen jumped off his trunk and into the battle, drawing her sword. It turned into a full-scale battle, one that no one was really expecting. Gwen started to dodge every attack that came after her, blocking every sword slash and pushing people into each other. The priority was to get the banner, and now that the third and fourth were finally joining the fray she had to make sure they won. She got all the way up to the battlements, high above the fortress courtyard where all the fighting was going on. Gwen saw Hazel had gotten on top of Hannibal and was now leading him, the eagles were working on overtime, getting legionnaires over to the medics outside the fortress.

Frank and Percy were fighting hard. Percy’s style was unlike anything she had seen before, he worked faster than anyone, there was a fire in him that was best described as being vicious. Gwen was practically cheering as Hannibal broke through to the final walls with Frank and Percy running into the banner room. Gwen wasn’t the one to do it, but they had won. They had finally won.

And then there was a sharp pain in her back that just grew and grew until she saw the point of a pilum sticking out of her chest. Gwen gasped, and it turned into a cough. The pain didn’t stop, she couldn’t breathe, blood was filling up her lungs. Her hands reached for her chest, they came back wet, dark red blood. She couldn’t stand, her vision was getting fuzzy, shaky. Gwen fell on her side, her helmet falling off her head. She heard the muffled cheers of victory before everything went dark.

* * *

 

Gwen was walking, it was dark and cold and the breeze sounded like whispers of the lost. She wasn’t in her armor anymore, she was wearing a long white dress that was almost in a toga style that draped around her. She didn’t even realise he was holding someone’s hand. The person had tan and freckled skin like hers, they were wearing a suit, nothing fancy but it was all black. The hat he was wearing was almost like a frisbee or a discus with little wings on the side that covered up the sandy colored curls.

The man was so familiar to Gwen, she knew that she had probably never met him, but she had to have seen him from somewhere, and why was he holding her hand? He also looked sad, and the more she looked at him, his features would change a little, like his suit would change into a mail carrier uniform for a second and then go back. He was humming, humming a song that Gwen instantly recognized.

“I’m a long time traveling away from home,” She sang along, and the man’s golden-brown eyes glanced towards her. “I’m a long time travelling here below, to lay this body down.” The two of them sang together, and the man had a surprisingly good singing voice. The song itself was a little sad, but the they both found themselves smiling. Smiling in the cold dark cave that never seemed to end.

Eventually they came to a river, and the river was just as black as the man’s suit. A cloaked figure in a small gondola was coming towards them. “I thought I was done burying children,” The man said. He looked at Gwen, his brow furrowing, like he could cry at any minute. “But sometimes wishes aren’t meant to come true, it was probably too much to ask for.” He moved some hair from Gwen’s face, tucking it behind her ear, and kissed her forehead. All this felt like a distant memory, one that Gwen could not remember, or an event happening in real time but she couldn’t begin to comprehend what was happening.

The man had a staff, with two intertwining snakes that seemed to move, though they were made of metal. With the staff the man gestured to the gondola, the ferry. He slipped something into Gwen’s hand, something cold and smooth. “I’m sorry, Gwendolyn.” He whispered. Gwen moved forward, towards the ferry. The cloaked figure didn’t frighten her, he didn’t speak but he held his hand out. Gwen was about to take his hand, when she woke up.

“Wh-” She tried to speak. “What is it? What is everyone staring at?”


	6. DAKOTA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You seem like a cool god to chill out with! I’m a big fan of your work!”

Nightmares come to life sometimes: a person’s home could be destroyed in a way they had always feared, people find the monsters in their closets in the form of abusive parents, and the terrible feeling of rejection can come at any time when one least expects it. Dakota never had nightmares that warranted a fear of anything; a dream about flying cabbages holding magnifying glasses meant nothing in real life. But if there was one thing that belonged in the deep, dark recesses of Dakota’s mind, it’s the fear that something would happen to Gwen.

Making promises one is a child is easy, and sometimes people forget that they made them in the first place. Gwen and Dakota had made a lot of promises that they had kept over the years: that they’d be in the same cohort together, that they’d be centurions together, and that they’d be each other’s first kiss. He thought about that kiss more often than he should, and he sometimes wished it had turned into more, but how could he five years after it happened? And how could he now that Gwen was dead?

Yes, Dakota’s worst fear had now played out in front of him. No, he was not taking it well. He felt bile rise up into his mouth, a feeling he was only familiar with when he was blackout-drunk. Everyone had crowded around her, with Frank, Hazel, and Percy Jackson all kneeling down near here with the medics. A seven foot pilum was sticking out of her chest, blood pooling around her. Gwen’s hair was hiding part of her face but he could see her eyes, closed as if she was asleep. His legs felt weak, like he could move forward to her but only to collapse into a heap. So he stood there, feeling his heart get heavier and heavier. 

It was like this for a moment, where everything was still and silent as the camp really realized that someone had died during a war game, something that seemed so inconceivable yet it happened right before their eyes. He almost felt angry, but he was angry that people who never once cared about Gwen were mournful that she had died, and he felt that Gwen didn’t deserve it. The assholes in the third and fourth centurions did nothing during the siege, Gwen didn’t deserve their pity. His heart was on its way to breaking out of his chest, and he thought he was going to throw up when Gwen suddenly opened her eyes. 

The camp erupted with chatter and frightened murmuring. For Dakota, everything remained quiet, he could only hear the sound of blood pumping hard and fast in his ears. He moved to the front of the circle and watched as Frank removed the pilum from her chest, Dakota could almost feel it himself. The wound closed in an instant, and Gwen stood up. 

_ Alive, alive, alive, _ that’s all he could think about. The words played in his head like a heartbeat. Slowly, he moved to her, unable to pay attention to anything else going on. He could tell everyone had started to point fingers at each other, trying to find blame, but one second ago Dakota thought his best friend was dead, and now she was standing and  _ alive _ . Her eyes landed on him, tears welling in her eyes, and all he could do was hold her hand, it was cold and clammy. He wanted to remove his hand from hers for a moment, he remembered this feeling from a memory in his childhood, something he hadn’t thought about in a long time, but Dakota continued to hold her hand. It warmed in the process.

Dakota didn’t even really notice that another god had shown up until everyone had started bowing. He had already felt the feeling of violence and anger and still sang in his blood from the battle, but as Mars appeared they came back for an encore, and all he wanted was to know who had done this to Gwen. Vengeance was a new feeling for him, revenge, justice, all things Dakota normally wouldn’t care to think about, but in the presence of the god of war, it practically blinded him. He could only feel Gwen’s hand, feeling how she squeezed it as Mars spoke.

“This one should be dead,” He spoke, pointing at Gwen. “Yet she’s not. The monsters you fight no longer return to Tartarus when they are slain…” Dakota didn’t know what to make of it, how long has this been happening? Dakota hasn’t ran into a monster in months, and he was pretty sure it was dead as it could be, but Gwen was proof that something bad was happening. Her gut feeling that something bad was going to happen was spot on, but no one could have known it would be like this.

Dakota then started to space out a little, getting distracted by the huge hole in Gwen’s armor, it certainly wouldn’t be an easy fix. Gwen was still paying attention to what was happening, even if her eyes seemed to dart around in a panicked frenzy. He felt his flask in his thigh pocket, and the intense feeling of dread came with it. There was too much going on, he needed something dilute it, to make things fuzzy. Sounds were becoming harsh, and the presence of Mars was making him anxious, but Dakota didn’t want to remove his hand from Gwen’s, not when she needed him. It was still hard for him to wrap his mind around the fact that Gwen had been dead, and now she suddenly was not, as if it had never happened.

But it had happened, and the image still played in his mind over and over and over again. He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking that if he tried hard enough that the image could go away, but it only made it worst. Dakota’s free hand went to his ear, trying to cover up the sound of the atmosphere, he even brought up the hand that was hold Gwen’s up to his head, not removing it from her. Dakota tried to mutter to himself, tried to calm himself down. The feeling of Gwen’s hand by his face helped; they didn’t feel cold anymore, they were warm and soft and felt so familiar and comforting.

“Dakota,” Gwen grabbed his arm with her free hand, his eyes opening immediately. “Dakota, are you okay?”

He shook his head, looking down at the ground. Reyna had told everyone to leave, the war games were officially over and Mars had left. Gwen looked around a little, noticing that everyone was leaving. A medic came up to both of them, but diverted his attention to Gwen. “Gwen, we should check your wound in the med tent.”

“I’m fine, really.” Gwen assured them. “You should take care of the people that are actually hurt.” 

The medic wasn’t convinced, “You really should come with-” but one look into Dakota’s icy glare was enough for them to leave. Dakota didn’t mean to be possessive of Gwen, but currently her hand was the only thing keeping him from having a break down. The longer he held on to her, the better he felt.

Gwen started to walk back to camp, leading Dakota by his hand. All eyes were on her, they mumbled to each other, watching them go by. A couple of people tried to ask her questions but she smiled and told them all individually that she needed rest, she squeezed Dakota’s hand every time someone tried to talk to her. She was then stopped by Nico di Angelo, someone she could not easily brush off, not when she had died.

“Gwen,” he addressed her, even acknowledging Dakota behind her. “I know you’re busy, and I’m probably the last person you want to see right now-”

“No, not at all.” Gwen reassured but Nico held his ringed hand up. Dakota was taken aback for a moment, to was pretty ballsy for a fourteen year old to try and interrupt a superior officer. The part of him that was protective of Gwen was ticked off, but the part of him that was anti-establishment was pleased with this little act of rudeness.

“There’s no need for niceties,” Nico interrupted. “I’m just telling you that if you have time tomorrow I need to talk to you about what happened tonight. This quest could be…”

Dakota had no idea what Nico meant by quest, he wasn’t fully paying attention to the situation after Gwen had came back. Gwen sighed, glancing briefly at Dakota; the same look she gave him when they claimed Percy for the fifth cohort. She wanted help, but what she really needed was for Dakota to be there. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand, soft little circles. Gwen’s shoulders seemed to relax a little, and she turned back to Nico.

“Alright,” she agreed. “Tomorrow morning, is that okay?” Dakota thought for a moment that maybe that meant they wouldn’t have their regular morning jog. Gwen was a creature of habit and promise, it was unusual for her to break with tradition, but it was also unusual for people to come back from the dead. Traditions were sometimes broken for good reason. Nico nodded and left them alone, and Gwen sighed in relief to see that they were going to be the last ones to get to camp.

They continued to walk back, their hands still interlocked. They should’ve stopped a long time ago, their hands were slick with sweat and a little blood, but they didn’t despite all of that. Gwen leaning into Dakota’s arm. Under different circumstances, Dakota would obsess over this act of affection, what it means for her to do this, but he didn’t need to overthink it. Dakota had to put his feelings aside, concentrate on what Gwen needed, how she was feeling.

“Are you going to take a bath?” Dakota cleared his throat before asking. “Not that you need one.” Gwen shook her head into Dakota’s bicep, groaning a little.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” She mumbled. “But I do need to get out of this armor.” When they arrived at the armory, Dakota helped her remove the chestplate. The armory was deserted, everyone had long since put things away and the fires had died down considerably. They both examined it a little, metal curling slightly at the entry point, sharp and uneven. Before Dakota could react, Gwen had already wiped away the tear that had started to fall down her cheek. Even if it was an accident, (which it clearly wasn’t, otherwise someone would’ve owned up to it) who would want to kill Gwen? She wasn’t best friends with everyone in camp, but she had no real enemies, no one that would go so far as to murder her. Except, maybe one person.

Gwen’s camp shirt had a hole it it, and Dakota could see only the faintest scar. It had healed completely, but a mark still remained, a reminder of what transpired. Dakota threw the chestplate into a pile with other damaged armor, another project for a child of Vulcan. His hands were shaking as he took off his own, a literal and figurative weight off of him, maybe he could try and forget the whole thing. Rarely did he try to let his anger get the best of him; it was something that he was constantly working on, especially when he was drunk. Throwing and slamming metal onto the ground was relieving, the sound fed the buzzing in his mind.

“Dakota,” She whimpered. He turned to face Gwen, and she threw her arms around him, tucking her arms under his and squeezing him. Dakota could feel his shirt get wet from where her head was buried into his chest, her sobs shaking him. He wrapped her up in his arms, trying to keep them both steady. Here, in this dimly lit armory, Dakota felt his heart break. Gwen had been trying to keep it together the whole time, but she couldn’t anymore.

He felt her hands clench the back of his shirt, practically ripping it. As fragile as Gwen seemed at this moment, Dakota held onto her for dear life. He didn’t even notice that he was crying himself. He rested his face on the top of her hair, she was just the right height to do it, the smell of her shampoo made his heart feel heavy. This was the person that slept in the cots by the leaking ceiling so no-one else had to, the person that stayed with Dakota when his mom was late to pick him up from camp, the person that didn’t give up no matter how many times she lost.

Any doubt about his feelings for Gwen were gone, he loved her with his whole heart, his whole being. Just as he was about to say her name, “Gwen-”

She said, “D?” looking up at him, her eyes glossy and puffy. “Oh, sorry. What is it?”

“N-no,” Dakota cleared his throat. “You go ahead first.”

“Oh, uh,” Gwen let go of Dakota, but only slightly. He arms hung loosely by his sides, only slightly gripping his shirt. “Can we go somewhere?”

His heart skipped a beat a little. “Where, exactly?”  _ Somewhere in camp? New Rome? California? A bed? The ends of the Earth?  _ Dakota wasn’t terribly picky.

Gwen rubbed her eyes a little before sniffing and continuing. “Temple Hill,” she answered. “If that’s okay with you?”

* * *

 

Two minutes later Gwen came out of the barracks in a new shirt, she was carrying one bottle of wine and half an handle of vodka, all of these things belonged to Dakota. The shirt was from when he and his mom went to Vegas last summer, it was a terrible souvenir t-shirt, that was even a little big on Dakota, that practically swallowed Gwen’s tiny frame. He and his mom didn’t even stay at the Lotus Casino and Hotel, but she was determined get him a souvenir no matter what. She was walking with haste into the dark night, heading to the dimly lit temples in the distance. “No chasers?” Dakota commented as he caught up to her.

“No time,” She huffed. “I hope you don’t mind me taking this.” Gwen held up the bottle of wine, it was unopened.

“No problem,” Dakota replied. “Though I’m pretty sure you can turn water into that stuff now, is that what typically happens to people that are resurrected?” He couldn’t really see Gwen all that well in the dark, but he could tell she was smiling and shaking her head. 

For a moment, while they walked together, it felt like the last couple of hours hadn’t happened. They were, after all, still Gwen and Dakota; the world’s worst centurions, a completely beatable duo. It was more like Dakota forgot for a moment that he was in love with Gwen, for a second she was back to being his best friend that he rarely had wet dreams about, back to being casual buddies. The moment lasted up until they reached the base of the hill, leading up to the stone steps.

“Oh,” Gwen turned to him, having gone up a couple steps before him. “You wanted to tell me something earlier. What was it?”

Dakota’s mouth opened slightly in stunned silence. Now was his chance, but he got a sudden bout of stage fright. What was he thinking!? He couldn’t just spout his undying love to Gwen, no matter how much he liked how she looked wearing his clothes. Because that’s what he had wanted to say to her in the armory; he wanted to tell Gwen he didn’t want anything to change, he still wanted to wake up and run with her and to keep being centurions together and to talk to her everyday. He also wanted to kiss her, badly, and to run his hands through her hair and to undress her with more than just his eyes. Dakota wanted to be so close to Gwen that he could count all the freckles on her face and it wouldn’t be terribly weird (it was weird no matter what, but sometimes when you’re in love, weird things don’t seem that weird).

But he couldn’t say it, he was too much of a coward and any courage he had when he had thought about saying this to Gwen had long disappeared into the night. “I’m just… Really glad you’re not dead.” that was all Dakota could say, all that he was willing to say. It was in fewer words, but the feeling was the same.

Gwen smiled, chuckling a little. “Me too.” She replied, before going up the steps. Maybe it was good that Dakota hadn’t declared his feelings to her like a Shakespearian douche, too much had happened to Gwen for him to try and change it drastically by telling her he loved her. Dakota wasn’t even sure he wanted to change his life like this either, that even though he believed nothing would change, a part of him knew it would never be the same. If she didn’t return his feelings, it was hard to know where their relationship would go, but probably nowhere good. It would be a bad weird, they would slowly and surely drift apart from each other. On the other hand, if Gwen did love him, they might be one of those gross couples that go overboard on the PDA.

Dakota was starting to wish he had been the one stabbed in the back.

Temple Hill was silent, save for the crackling torches and fires that warmed the feet of the stone statues depicting the Gods. Dakota could see Bacchus’ shrine from the distance, it was small and overgrown with vines. He felt himself getting drawn to it, as if the vines were wrapping around his limbs and pulling him in. The feeling subsided as he kept walking, though he could’ve sworn he saw glowing, feline eyes in the shadow of the shrine. 

“What are we doing here, Gwen?” Dakota asked in a quiet voice. Jupiter’s temple loomed over the whole hill and Mars’ seemed to glow, as if it was still reflecting energy from his earlier visit. Even in the night, Pluto’s roof glittered with all the jewels crusted into it, and the miniscule shrine meant for Neptune looked like it was going to be knocked down by the wind at any second.

“I didn’t tell anyone this,” Gwen stopped walking for a moment. “But… I went to my father’s shrine last night.” She gestured with a bottle to the temple next to her, it resembled monuments in Washington DC. Dakota followed Gwen into the temple, a tall bronze statue of Mercury in the middle. “And then when I was dead,” Gwen started to continue, but when she looked up at the statue she had to stop for a moment. “He was there. I had told everyone else that I saw the Ferryman, and that I had started to give him a coin before I woke up back to the land of the living. But my father was there, he lead me there.”

“Mercury?” Dakota looked at the statue, too. “Isn’t he the guide to the Underworld? It would be surprising if he  _ wasn’t _ there.” When he looked back at Gwen she was giving him a look, her eyebrows furrowing. “Oh, that sounded like I was discrediting your father being there for you when you died… Sorry.” Dakota felt his neck get warm from embarrassment, he was still working on not saying insensitive things at the wrong time.

Gwen sat down at the steps leading up to the pyre, the oversized shirt billowed a little as she went down. “I haven’t seen him since,” Gwen thought for a moment, trying to recall a memory. “Since we got named legionnaires, when we returned all the unicorns.” Dakota felt himself smile, remembering their first quest where he and Gwen travelled to Tucson, Arizona after a herd of unicorns were stolen by rogue fauns. After that they were official legionaries and two years later they became centurions of the fifth cohort. “I didn’t even recognize him when I was down there.”

Dakota sat down next to her, taking the bottles from her hands. He set aside the wine bottle, now that he thought about it he wasn’t sure he had a corkscrew with him, and opened the vodka handle. The cap was the size of a shot glass, and what he had was cheap but incredibly potent, they would be hammered in less than an hour. “Do you think he’s the reason you’re still alive?” He asked as he handed her the cap.

She shook her head, her nose crinkling a little at the smell of the vodka. “The only reason I’m still alive is because Thanos is missing and the doors to the Tartarus are open.” Gwen didn’t drink nearly as often as Dakota did, she reserved it for special occasions, but she threw her head back as she drank the shot like a champ. She stuck her tongue out, disgusted by the taste. 

“Is that what Nico was talking about?” Dakota took the cap back, he wasn’t going to drink quite yet. “A quest?”

Gwen nodded, almost grimly. “Mars is already hoping that Frank will go, considering he claimed him as his son. Which means Hazel will probably go with him, and Percy Jackson will probably be the third.”

“What makes you say that?” He asked, taking a shot right after that. It did not burn pleasantly down his throat like it would with kool-aid. His tolerance for even the strongest vodka had built up considerably, he couldn’t drink it as easy as water but he could do it and only cringe a little at the taste.

“I have a hunch,” Gwen crossed her arms. “Percy really proved himself tonight, and there’s just something about him. He seems like a more than capable demigod.”

Dakota poured another shot, but neither of them seemed keen on drinking it so soon after their first. Something troubling dawned on Dakota, “So what happens if they find Thanos? What happens to you?” Gwen looked out into the hill, her gaze seemed blank but there was something deeper. She shrugged, but she was doing a poor job of acting nonchalant. Dakota was usually bad at reading people’s faces, but he knew Gwen as well as he knew himself.

That’s what Nico wanted to talk about, Gwen might not be out of the woods quite yet. If Thanos returned to the Underworld, that meant that beings that were meant to be dead would go back to being mortal, go back to being dead. Dakota took another shot.

“What was he like?” Dakota leaned onto his hand, it was propped on his knee. “Mercury. Your dad.”

Gwen looked back at the statue again. “He seemed sad,” her voice cracked a little. “Sad about taking me down to the Underworld. I think he was hoping I’d be a bit older before I kicked the bucket.”

“I think that’s what any parent would hope for.” He replied. Gwen’s eyes met Dakota’s, her brown eyes looking almost gold in the firelight. She smiled sweetly, her hand reaching for his. A little kindling and oxygen and his heart was set aflame. One hand held hers, the other offering Gwen another shot. She coughed after taking it, laughing a little at her inability to handle it, it was contagious enough for Dakota to laugh a little, too. He let go of her hand before he became possessive of it.

“Now,” Dakota held the bottle of wine with both of his hands. “I hate to break this to you, but I don’t have a corkscrew with me.” Gwen groaned sadly, the couple of shots had already gotten to her a little. “But, since Mercury-” Dakota gestured to the statue with his head. “Was so kind to lead you to the River Styx before the Fates retconned you out of there, perhaps we should leave this for him.”

“Dakota, are you seriously suggesting we sacrifice y _ our _ booze to a  _ god _ ?” Gwen accused. “You’ve been acting so weird recently.”

He shrugged. “I’ve had at least three shots,” he held up four fingers, which caused Gwen to giggle a little. “All clearity I might normally have has gone. Plus this is bottle cost me twenty bucks, it’s not that much of a sacrifice.” He thought about just smashing it on the pyre, but even when he was slightly inebriated that seemed like a terrible idea since they were sitting a foot away from it. He put the bottle next to the pyre, right in front of Mercury’s winged feet.

“For you,” Dakota made a drunken show of his offering, waving his hands around and directing his words to the statue. “From Bacchus’ vines and blood, this bottle of wine I got from Costco a couple weeks ago that I was saving for myself. I used my fake ID and everything, I figured you’d approve.” While this was happening, Gwen had poorly poured herself another shot and was giggling. 

“We mean no disrespect for drinking on your shrine, Mercury!” Dakota continued. “You seem like a cool god to chill out with! I’m a big fan of your work!” Dakota gestured to Gwen, who giggle-snorted. “Oh my gods, that was so effing cute. Magnificent job, Mercury. Truly!” Dakota was swaying a little too much, he felt like he needed to sit down again, it was then he noticed that the bottle was gone. He looked around, trying to see if it had maybe rolled off, but it had disappeared entirely.

He went back to Gwen, who handed him the cap again. Dakota filled it up again and took the shot, he then closed the bottle. “We should probably head back.” He suggested. Gwen pouted a little before shrugging, and then nodding. Dakota helped Gwen stand up, who was drunk enough where everything seemed fun still, and held onto the handle. Gwen waved goodbye to the statue of her godly father, and started humming a song as they went down the steps.

They were about to start heading down the hill when they both saw a light at the Jupiter temple. It shouldn’t have seemed unusual, the light was casting shadows, there was someone up there. Dakota could almost hear the person, they were yelling exasperatedly. “I did.... Won’t work!... Killed her… For nothing!” He recognized the voice instantly, Octavian.

Dakota looked at Gwen, who had heard it too. Her face had blanched, her eyes wide like saucers. She dug into her pant pocket, and held up a gold coin. When someone dies, they’re burned with a shroud and a coin under their tongue or two over their eyes. These were one of those coins. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Gwen whispered.

“Let’s not do it by any of these temples then,” Dakota lead Gwen away, she stumbled a little but had no further trouble. She held onto Dakota’s arm like he was a tree, her hand squeezing the coin. “We’ll drink some water and go to bed and in the morning we’ll go out for a run. The rest we’ll sort out later.” Dakota promised. If he focused on walking back to camp, he wouldn’t trip. And if he focused on not tripping, he wouldn’t start thinking about how to disembowel Octavian.


	7. JUNE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and now for something completely different. the story of how gwen's mother met mercury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MANY APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE FOR THIS DELAY  
> i ran into a huge block with how i wanted to finish this series up, i initially was going to end it at this chapter with one more in gwen's perspective but there's just so much more i could include. i got this idea to write about mercury and this is what i came up with.   
> when the next chapter will come up is once again unknown, i'm getting more busy with school and i'm planning on continuing the next chapter for longing to linger as well.   
> thanks and enjoy!

**FEBRUARY 14, 1992**

Valentine’s Day used to be June Kendrick’s favorite holiday; when she was younger her father would buy roses for her mother and June and her mother would make cookies and cake for her classmates and teachers. June always wished she could continue the tradition to her own two  children, but she worked too much and barely spent time with them as it was. She was grateful that her father would offer to take care of them during the day, but she missed her little boys during her days working at the Triple Crown Diner. Her husband, Levi, was never the romantic type, not even when they first started dating in high school, so June never expected anything from him.

It was getting dark out, in a couple of hours Levi would pick up June at the end of her shift. Or at least he was suppose to, Levi was notorious for being late. Late to class when they were in high school, late to the birth of both of their sons, and late to June’s mother’s funeral. 

The diner was practically empty, there was at least one young couple on a date and a few truckers either at the counter or in a booth. The gentle sounds of the jukebox swayed in the background under the sizzle of the grill and fryer in the kitchen. June pulled out the photo of her sons with her father, it was frayed in the center from frequent folding it open; June’s father wasn’t one for smiling, he hadn’t been happy for a long time, but the corners of his mouth perked up just a little while he held his two young grandsons. The oldest, Arthur, was showing off his gummy grin while Miles was sleeping in the krook of his grandfather’s arm.

June probably looked at the photo several times a day, it was one of those little things that helped her get through the day. Little things like playing Johnny B Goode by Chuck Berry on the jukebox first thing in the morning, drawing the little king in the corner of the specials board, baking a few pies, and remembering she’s doing it all for her two kids.

The couple left, giggling and being a little handsy with each other as they went out to the pickup truck in the parking lot. June put the photo way, moving over to the table they had just left to clear it off. The tip was measly, but they didn’t order much besides a couple of milkshakes and pieces of pie. The fluorescent glow of the signs outside made the diner light up in red and blue, June had already complained to her manager that the lights inside needed to be replaced, they were considerably dimmer than the lights inside, but he didn’t seem to care that much.

Sighing, June started to clear off the table just as it started to rain. It never snowed in the winter in Oregon, it only rained. Now June was sure that Levi was going to be late, he was a terrible driver and even moreso when it rained as heavily as it did there. After pocketing the tip, June grabbed the plates and brought them into the kitchen. The cook, Benny, was ever silent but he acknowledged June’s presence when she walked in briefly.

As June walked back, picking up a washcloth, the trucker at the counter called out for more coffee.

“I’ll get to you in a moment!” June replied as she quickly washed off the table, just to get rid of crumbs and the rings from the milkshake glasses. When she went back to refill the trucker’s mug, she saw someone running towards the diner. Using their suit jacket as a makeshift umbrella, the stranger dashed into the diner.

He was drenched, the rain must be coming down harder that June thought, but the only thing she could think about was how underdressed he looked for February in Oregon. The stranger hung up his jacket on the coatrack, his button up soaked through to his undershirt and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his tie was loose around his neck. Everything about him gave the impression of a business man, or a federal agent, all except the baseball cap he wore that had little embroidered wings above the ears. The stranger then took off his cap, revealing slicked back copper colored curls.

June nearly spilled the coffee after seeing him. He grabbed something from inside his jacket pocket, one of those mobile cellphones that was the size of his head. June couldn’t help but notice how thin he was, that his pants fit a little too tightly, thought maybe she could’ve helped it a little, she was married after all. She looked down at the plain wedding band on her hand, how she frequently took it off when she cleaned dishes, and how she would have mini panic attacks any time she thought she lost it because she knew the Levi would be furious. June couldn’t count how many times she wished she could just throw the ring out the window of her car.

The Stranger put the phone back in his jacket and smoothed his hair back before approaching the counter, placing his hat on the counter. “Are you open 24 hours?” His voice was taut, he clearly had heard something on the phone he wasn’t happy about.

June cleared her throat. “Yes, we are.” The Stranger placed his hands on the counter, a silver snake ring coiled around both his ring fingers, and sat down in front of June. He also had at least three wristwatches on his arm, all with different hours on them, which June thought was incredibly odd. He grabbed the menus and browsed over it while June poured him a glass of water and placed an empty mug next to it. “Car trouble?”

The Stranger looked up over the top of his menu with his hazel eyes. “Something like that,” His mouth curved a little, and his whole demeanor changed. “I’m waiting for my brother to pick me up, he won’t be here until morning.”

June nodded, “Well,  _ I  _ won’t be here the whole night, but you can stay here as long as you need to.” June filled up his mug with coffee. The Stranger put the menu down, tilting his head a little as his smiled turned into a grin. When he first came into the diner, the Stranger gave off a vibe of professionalism; his clothes helped with that, but now he seemed like the complete opposite. The Stranger seemed to know every one of June’s secrets, but not in a menacing way, he just seemed to know her, that’s not something she could say about a lot of the out-of-towners that came through the diner.

“Tell me,” He looked at her name tag. “ _ June _ , what’s your favorite thing to get here?”

June cringed a little and chuckled. She has been working at the Triple Crown since she was sixteen and she typically avoided trying to eat anything from the menu. It wasn’t that the food was bad, it was more that she would get sick of the food if she ate it all the time. She did, however, always try to save a slice of pie for her family to share. “Um, well Benny makes very good juicy lucies. And, I don’t mean to toot my own horn but the pies I make are good, too.”

“Ooh,” The Stranger looked behind June where the pie pans were. “They do look good. Okay I will start with breakfast, since you serve breakfast all day, correct?”

“Uh huh,” June pulled out a pen and paper from her waist apron. “What’ll it be?”

“Okay, we’ll start with a stack of pancakes with bacon and eggs, sunnyside. We’ll have a regular cheeseburger with everything on it, a full serving of fries, and a juicy lucy.” The Stranger winked at June, throwing up a finger gun with his hand. “And then I’ll have a slice of each of the pies you got behind with you. And to top it all I’ll have a chocolate milkshake. Did you get all that?”

“Uh huh!” June finished writing his whole order, ripping out of her book and sticking it into the kitchen window behind her and ringing the bell for Benny. “We’ll have that out for you in a bit, do you want me to make that shake for you right away?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

June went into the kitchen and grabbed Benny and pushed him into the walk-in freezer. “What the fuck are you doing, June?” The middle aged man complained.

“Benny,” June tucked her hair behind her ears. “How long have you known me?”

“Far too long, it feels.” He sighed.

“So you also know that I’m married and that I have two kids, right?”

“Yeah? So what?”

“So why am I flirting with this guy that just came in here?!” June started hyperventilating a little, her breath huffing in and out in front of her in the cold freezer. Benny, incredibly greasy and potbellied, shook his head with his arms crossed.

Benny was not only the head cook, but he was also June’s boss, so this kind of behavior was really out of character. Rarely June and Benny disclosed a lot of personal information about each other, even after working with each other for almost ten years they were at best acquaintances. But now, June felt it was important to disclose this wildly inappropriate information to her boss.

She wasn’t even sure that she really was flirting with the Stranger, but she wasn’t not attracted to him. June must’ve been thinking out loud a little because Benny grabbed her shoulders to get her attention.

“June,” His baritone voice started. “I know you hate it when people tell you this, but your husband is a son of bitch and you don’t deserve him.” June rolled her eyes, knowing that this was going to get brought up at some point. “Now, because I know you I also know that you’re over thinking the whole thing and that if you happen to flirt with this random ass man that there’s no harm, no fowl. So long as Levi doesn’t catch you.”

June sighed. “Benny this is bad, I haven’t felt like this since I was in high school. I shouldn’t be acting like this! I’m not feeling real strong feelings but I definitely don’t feel like myself! I’m a married mother, I don’t flirt with random strangers on Valentine’s Day.”

“You’re twenty five!” Benny nearly knocked a stack of frozen patties as he raised his arms up. “You know what? This isn’t my problem, you’re entitled to think another man is hot shit, just. Don’t. Get. Caught.”

Grumbling, Benny left the freezer, leaving June alone. June rubbed her face and groaned in frustration. She clearly needed Betsy, the near elderly waitress that worked with June sometimes. June grabbed a handful of ice cubes and left the freezer, making her way to the blender to make the Stranger’s milkshake.

The blender whirled deafeningly, the ice crunched and span with the ice cream and syrup. She spun her wedding band on her finger with her thumb. June used to fantasize being married, she didn’t have any big dreams career wise throughout her whole life but she could always see herself being a wife; her parents always seemed happy, quiet but very happy. She didn’t want to admit that her marriage was way beyond worst than what she was hoping for.

June poured the milkshake into a tall glass and brought it out for the Stranger, who was conversing with the trucker sitting at the counter with him. The trucker didn’t seem all that comfortable with talking with the Stranger, he kept staring at the wall in front of him, but that didn’t stop the Stranger from resting his jaw on his hand propped up on the counter. His posture changed when June came back, he was slouching to the side but as soon as June arrived with his milkshake he sat up straight in his backless stool.

“June,” He beamed. “You’re truly a sight for sore eyes.” June set down the milkshake and pulled out a whipped cream can from behind her and topped it up with a bright red maraschino cherry.

“Sorry for the wait.” June apologized with sincerity.

“No wait at all,” the Stranger replied. “I had such pleasant company,” he gestured to the trucker, who looked slightly more uncomfortable. “That I hardly noticed you were gone! Now,” he clapped his hands and rubbed them together, eyeing the milkshake with extreme desire. “Who should have the first drink, you or me?”

The Stranger looked at June, awaiting her response. She was taken aback. “What do you mean?” she protested. “It’s yours.”

“You honestly don’t think I can drink this whole thing myself, now do you?” It wasn’t a terribly tall glass, a standard malt/milkshake glass that one would easily find in any American diner. The last time June had shared a milkshake with anyone it was in high school with Levi.

“I-I’m not one to share food with strangers,” June replied. “It’s a small town after all, word will spread that I had a milkshake with a strange man and my life will spiral after that.”

She was joking, but there was a brief silence between them, as if the Stranger believed her, but then he broke and started laughing a little, breaking any tension between them.

“Where are my manners?” He grinned, flashing his incredibly white teeth. “If we’re going to be sharing food I might as well introduce myself,” He held his hand out for June. “Mercury Olympia of Olympia Trade Goods.”

June shook his hand, hers were slightly sticky from the whipped cream but his was warm and firm. He dressed for business but he clearly worked with his hands a lot, too. She tried not to think too much about that. “That’s a peculiar name, your parents into Astronomy?”

Mercury cringed a little, baring his teeth in a non-threatening way. “I like to think the planet was named after me more than I’m named after the planet. Just like I’m sure the month of June was named after you.”

June chuckled. “Yeah right, I wasn’t even born in June.”

“When were you born, then?”

“October,” June reached over to the straw holder and pulled one out for Mercury. “But my parents got married in June, hence the name.”

“But you’re as nice and pleasant as a fine June day,” Mercury countered. “the whole month might as well be named after you.”

June felt her heart flutter a bit, it had been a long time since someone had said such nice to things to her, even if they were cheesier than Benny’s juicy lucy. “Drink your milkshake before it melts.” She insisted. Mercury’s eyebrow raised a little and his grin sharpened a little.

“Yes, ma’am.” He practically purred his voice was so low, he didn’t break eye contact as he stuck the straw into the milkshake and took a sip. June tried not to let her heart beat too fast, and didn’t even want to think about the flips going on in her stomach, she was sure that her face was bright red. The trucker at the counter started to leave, leaving money for his coffee and piece of pie. June wished him safe travels and went to clear off his plate, a welcomed distraction from Mercury. A miniscule tip, but June didn’t want to complain too much, she could hardly keep her tips anyways.

There was a time when June would try to hide money from Levi, keep a little something for herself in case of emergencies. It came in handy a couple of times, especially if her husband wasn’t around, but once Levi found her stash it lead to their worst fight ever. He accused her in a drunken fury of trying to collect money so she and their kids could leave him. Since then all of her tips went to Levi, regardless of how much she made.

For a moment June pushed out the thought of the handsome man flirting with her and just tried to go into work mode; clean, bust plates, arrange ketchup and mustard, check on the one other customer in the whole diner. She went into the kitchen to wash a couple dishes, just to make it easier for Benny and the other cooks that were sitting back in the warm kitchen. There was a small antenna radio that sat in the corner and constantly played the local new station, every so often someone would change it to a country radio station but most of the time it was a quiet muffle of old Washington men talking about current events.

Benny finished cooking Mercury’s breakfast plate and handed June the plate as she was walking out the kitchen. Mercury, however, was not sitting in his seat at the counter. Surely he didn’t leave without paying, June thought. Thankfully, she saw him leaning over the jukebox that sat on the other side of the diner on the wall between the last set of booths. She placed his plate where he sat, and while he still wasn’t looking she not-so-subtly checked him out. In the short while he’s been here, Mercury’s clothes have dried up a little, but his pants still didn’t leave much to the imagination. They were slightly high-waisted and a little big, but it fit where it counted.

June saw him punch in a couple of numbers and the whirling of the vinyl records flipping through and there was a definite click and the song began: slight vocalization, a guitar riffs high on the scale then lower, and then the beat kicks in. As Elvis’ sultry voice begins, pleading with a lover that it’s now or never, Mercury turns around and starts to walk back to his seat, his footsteps going in time with the beat. The one other customer, an old woman, finds Mercury’s display highly entertaining and couldn’t hide a smile from curling over her lips. Mercury even went so far to start mouthing the words to the song as he sat down.

June couldn’t stop the smile that spread over her face.

Mercury tore through his food, humming to the music playing as he poured syrup over his pancakes. It made June a little uncomfortable to stand and watch him eat, but there was next to nothing for her to do until his next meal was ready, she opted to lean over the counter a couple feet away from him and watched the rain come down outside. In the short time since she first noticed how late it had gotten, the sky had darkened considerably. The rain landed on the signs outside and made it look like it was dripping neon.

The phone on the wall started to ring and June went to get it.

“Triple Crown Diner, this is June,” she answered.

“It’s getting late, June.” She knew it was her father, he almost never greeted someone on the phone. “Where are you?”

“I’m still at work, waiting for Levi to pick me up.” June started playing with the curled phone cord, a habit that she never grew out of from her teen years from calling Levi on her old house phone.

“This has been the third time this week you two have been late,” her father warned. “Why hasn’t he picked you up yet?”

“I don’t know,” she defended. “I don’t know if he’s been busy at the shop or not, he doesn’t tell me. He also won’t tell me when he’ll be finished with his car, I’m getting sick of having to share mine.”

She heard her father sigh through the phone, a wave of guilt flooding through her chest. June was sure that Levi was doing this on purpose, that he was making her life miserable for the hell of it. That was, after all, his favorite pass time in high school; inconveniencing the lives of people he didn’t care about.

“This is getting ridiculous, June.” her father sighed.

“I know,” she replied after a moment. “I’m sorry, and I really appreciate you doing this for us and the boys, truly.”

“You and the boys are the only ones I’m doing this for, June.” The Elvis song died down and The Temptations followed after.

June said goodbye, promising that she’d pick up her kids soon, and hung up the phone. The ding from the kitchen window snapped her back into reality, the rest of Mercury’s meal was ready. Once again, June found herself putting blinders on, thinking that she could work through the stress and worry. She shouldn’t worry about her sons being with her father, but the older he got the harder it was for him to stay up for her and Levi, it wasn’t fair to dump them on him.

Picking up the hot plates from the window, June set them down in front of Mercury. “Anything else I can get you?” June asked, more out of habit than from want to please him.

“This should satisfy me until my slice of pie,” Mercury replied. “Though I was hoping you’d sit down and eat for once.”

June was about to head into the kitchen after his first comment but then she was caught off guard. “... I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Well I ordered your favorite thing,” He gestured to the juicy lucy. “And even though I do have an abnormally large appetite, there’s no way I’m planning on eating all of this food. So please, sit down and eat.”

June felt her face squeeze up a little, a knot growing in her stomach. “This is… I’m working right now, I can’t just sit down and eat.” 

“Yes, I don’t want to take you away from your very busy shift.” Mercury looked around at the near empty diner, feigning confusion as to what the problem is. June had to admit, it was a bad excuse, but she’s had her fair share of unwanted advancements from strange men working at this dinner. Though, it wasn’t  _ completely _ unwanted. June didn’t want to think about how Mercury was charming and handsome and how she was tired and hungry and missing her children. She glanced into kitchen window, not seeing Benny working by the grill, there were no more orders at the moment.

June winced, weighing her options. Then, she slowly walked around the counter and sat down in the stool right next to Mercury. She tucked her skirt under her as she sat down, making sure her pens and paper didn’t fall out of her apron. Mercury slid her plate over to her and the Beach Boys started playing on the juke in the corner.

“Thank you,” June smiles slightly. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“Oh I know,” Mercury dipped some french fries into his milkshake. “I’m just a sucker for pretty waitresses.”

“So you do this often?” June questioned, feeling a little defensive again, but also planning on just messing with him. “Buy meals for waitresses?”

“No no no no no!” Mercury cringed. “That came out wrong.” Mercury looked at June apologetically, but when he saw June’s face that was cracking into a smile his demeanor changed. “Ahh, very funny June. I must still have egg on my face from earlier.” June smiled, digging into her burger. 

Despite the hot cheese in the center of her burger, she was pretty hungry and was thoroughly enjoying her meal. Her foot was tapping to the beat of the song playing on the juke, everything Mercury had picked to play had been very good so far. Every now and then someone would play something June didn’t like so much, but she never got sick of the oldies music that played.

“I like your taste in music,” June complemented, sneaking a sip of his milkshake. “Sometimes I end up hearing Mr. Sandman all day, which practically ruins my day if I end up hearing it more than twice a day.”

Mercury chuckles. “Well thank you, and be glad I didn’t pick that song next, too.” He pointed at the jukebox with a french fry. “My brother ‘s the big music fan, he plays this kind of stuff all the time.”

“Sounds like my everyday.”

They keep eating, making small talk and bobbing their heads to the music. They weren’t talking about anything in particular, just about the area and where Mercury has traveled. June let Mercury’s leg brush against hers, let him put his hand there a few times. Under normal circumstances, June would never had let this happen; she’s a married mother, she would never let a strange man do this for her. Just this once, however, June allowed herself to be nothing more than a young woman. Allowed herself to forget her terrible husband and let his handsome man treat her to a meal. Let his fingertips graze her knee.

There was something about him, something June couldn’t quite place. She thought this all seemed odd, but it was a sort of innocent flirtation. She couldn’t deny she thought he was handsome; sexy, even. Was she attracted to him because he had an air of mystery and strangeness, or was she just looking for an outlet for her misplaced want for freedom? It seemed like an oftly deep thought to have over burgers and fries but it was what she was thinking about nonetheless.

“June,” Mercury’s voice was low, he removed his hand from her leg, placing it on his own. His ringed fingers shining on his thigh. “What’s your life like?”

“It’s nothing special.” June replied.

“Someone special like you should have a special life.”

“That’s very nice of you to say,” June looked down at her own ring, it felt heavy on her hand. “But I’m going to have to disagree.”

“How come?”

She looked at her ragged fingernails; worn from washing dishes, burned by hot plates. What could these hands do that was special? They were special to her sons, who seemed to be calmed by the mere touch of her fingers. Pies became works of art with the flick of her wrist. Those seemed like special things, but they were on such a small scale that it seemed miniscule compared to what other people could do.

June shrugged. “I’ve been stuck in the town my whole life,” She dared to look into his eyes. He was looking at her intently, his brow creased a little. “There’s nothing really special about it, or about anyone who lives in it.”

Mercury shook his head, a small grin curling on his face. “I don’t believe it, and trust me, belief is  _ very _ important to me. If what you say is true, then you must be an outlier.”

June scoffed, trying to pretend she wasn’t getting flustered. She wasn’t really getting frustrated but she hated it when she was being self-deprecating and someone else was trying to convince her that she wasn’t as bad as she thought she was. It was especially bad since Mercury didn’t really know her. “Why are you saying this to me?”

“What do you mean?” He said with a hint of mischief, like he knew what he was doing. He knew he was making her blush, June could see it in his eyes.

“I’m just,” June took a deep breath, gathering any courage she could muster. “I’m being cautious. Nobody says nice things like you do to me, and in my life anytime someone is nice to me it’s because they want something.”

June didn’t notice that she had balled her fists up tight until she felt his hand, the coolness of his snake ring causing her to jolt in her seat a little. His hair had become disheveled a little, a curl drooping over his forehead. Once again the feeling that she should pull away, that she should be faithful, crept back into her head. No matter how much June tried to pull away she couldn’t, she was enamored by Mercury.

“People can be selfish,” he regarded her hand, the one with the wedding ring. “I can’t deny that I myself can be selfish. At first, yes, I saw you and thought you attractive, how could I not?” June’s hand that wasn’t being held by Mercury shot up to her mouth in surprise, but to cover her flushed face more than anything. 

“But there’s more to you than looks,” Mercury continued, squeezing her hand. “I do truly believe that. I don’t think it would hurt for you to have a little faith in yourself.” His eyes flicked to behind June, where the jukebox was. Strangers in the Night started to play, as if on a cue. “Besides, I think average people are underrated.”

June looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“I think people only care about what’s different, they’re afraid of routine. Sure, if you’re grinding yourself into submission with a boring life you look for any sort of thrill to take you out of it. However, if you find little things in your daily life that make it worthwhile, then everything feels special.”

Rubbing the side of her face, June felt a smile grow. “Got any other good advice?”

Mercury chuckled a little, June felt her stomach flip. “Besides leave your husband who clearly doesn’t treat you right?” Slowly, he picked up June’s hand, placing a kiss right on the silver wedding band on her finger. “No.” he hummed.

_ Don’t get caught _ , June thought,  _ Just don’t get caught _ . As she thought that, headlights flashed through the window as someone pulled into the parking lot. June’s eyes flashed to the clock on the wall, Levi was at least an hour late. June pulled her hand away, almost a little too forcefully, and stood up. The car outside honked, signalling that it was in fact Levi. She was so conditioned to go when she was called, June didn’t even hesitate when Mercury made a couple of comments of objection.

June’s instinct to get out were heightened, she just needed to go home and be with her sons. She needed to pretend this man didn’t try to steal her away. She went into the kitchen to grab her rain jacket and purse, clocking out in a rush; seconds make the difference between Levi being a little upset to him being livid. 

At this moment, June didn’t know that in a year she’d be long gone, away from Levi and her small little town. She didn’t know that she would fall in love and get remarried to a dentist in Portland and have a child with him. She didn’t know that she would see Mercury again, and again, and again. She didn’t know that her youngest child, Gwen, would be proof of an oncoming battle in the worst way possible. June didn’t know that her life would become special, not just because she would be the parent of a demigod, but because of the little things in her life that made it better. 

As she grabbed her things and rushed out the door, June took one last look at Mercury. The song playing in the jukebox was one of June’s favorites; Save the Last Dance for Me by the Drifters. She wished she could save the last dance for Mercury.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, June.” He waved goodbye. June felt her heart shrivel up a little, already missing the stranger that made her feel different. Made her feel like she wasn’t June Kendrick: wife of a drunk and mother of two. Made her feel… special.

“You too.” She wished to him, and went out into the rain. 


	8. GWEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nothing to get upset about."

The minimal amount of sleep that Gwen had gotten was filled with visions of her brief time in the Underworld. She could still vividly feel her father guiding her down, gripping her hand with all his might. When she finally woke up, it was too early for even the sun to rise. Her head ached and a dry and awful taste lingered in her mouth that made her desperate to brush her teeth. Slowly, Gwen got up from her bunk and climbed down the ladder, careful not to make any noise.

She glanced at where Dakota was sleeping, his blanket tucked over his head. If this was a normal day, she’d wake him up and go on a run, just as they always have. It was hard for her to imagine the fact that less than 24 hours ago, she was alive and sleeping, it was a run of the mill kind of day. On a normal day they’d complain about their grueling work and laugh over a cup of coffee. That’s what she would’ve done if today was a normal day, but it wasn’t, not anymore. Gwen left the barracks and went out into the cold morning feeling like she was going to be sick, she made a beeline for the bathrooms. It was dark in there, but she knew where the latrine was and managed to vomit into the seemingly bottomless pit.

There were a lot of reasons why Gwen could be feeling sick like this; she frequently got sick because of her sensitive stomach, or she was incredibly hungover from drinking with Dakota. But then the images of her dream, memories of the Underworld and feeling of her father’s hand were all too vivid. The thought of it all made her gag and cough. The realization of what had happened to Gwen was finally settling in. Before Gwen knew it, her breath was heaving heavily in her chest and warm tears were running down her cheeks, sobs began to bubble up and she let it all flow out of her.

In her life, panic attacks weren’t uncommon, but one of this magnitude was unheard of. The last time she had freaked out like this was when Levi, her mom’s ex-husband, had dropped by their home in Portland unexpectedly and threatened to take Gwen away from her home. Even then she was more confused than anything else and was worried something would happen. Here, she knew what had happened, and it was shattering her world. Gwen didn’t want to be too loud, she could tell she was already getting attention from some Lares and she was just waiting for one of them to chastise her for being up early and for crying in the bathroom. But none came, and eventually settled down.

When she stopped crying, there were still little wimpers that came out, but she was beginning to feel quiet and settled. The salt of her tears were drying and cracking on her face. Gwen got up and headed into the baths, the dirt from last night’s battle were still caked on her arms and legs. It was still too early for everyone to be up, so the baths would be empty (save for some Lares) and Gwen was never more glad.

In her years of being in Camp Jupiter, she got used to the fact that privacy wasn’t as pressed upon as it might be outside the walls of camp, but every now and then she yearned to be vulnerable by herself. Self consciousness still happens even if everyone runs around camp half-naked.

The dimly-lit baths were steaming, the fog of the hot water and salts rose to the open sky. Two old Lares were conversing on the far side of the large bath, looking like they’re meeting for a mafia meeting. Gwen started to strip down out of her pajamas, she was still wearing the oversized t-shirt she borrowed from Dakota, and nearly tripped out of her shorts because of how light-headed she was feeling. She figured she wasn’t going to have time to run to New Rome and get a bagel as usual, but the thought of going into the mess hall this morning almost made her throw up again. The smell of oils and salts that were added to the baths instantly made Gwen feel more relaxed, even before she had stepped into it.

There was something comforting about the intense heat of the water, it was like being in a hot tub but with a pool level amount of water. Much like the ancient Roman baths, it was heated from underground streams and some combination of magma, but that didn’t exist in California so camp settled with fires from the forge right next door. Gwen let herself get enveloped in the hot water, ignoring the pain that came from the heat. The pain reminded her that she was alive again. She let herself float a little in the water, her head tilting up and her hair floating around her head.

One time when she was on break, Gwen and her family went to Santa Monica pier and played on the beach. It was before her eldest brother went off to college and when Morgan was still young enough to enjoy every day of her life. She almost never sees her brothers any more, and her sister is at an age a mood where she never wants to talk to Gwen. She felt tears well up in her eyes again. She couldn’t believe that dying is what it took for her to realize how homesick she was. 

She went through her routine to wash herself down until she felt satisfied. Once clean and pruny, the sky started turning orange, and Gwen started to get dressed again. As she was leaving, a paper bag was handed to her, causing her to yell a bit in surprise.

“Here,” Gwen turned to see Nico DiAngelo handing her a greasy fast food bag. He looked to be already dressed for the senate meeting happening later, as he had a black toga draped over his shoulders.  “You should eat.”

“You shouldn’t jump up on a girl coming out of a bathhouse, you know.” Gwen commented. She opened the bag and saw food that not even Ajax could get rid of. Nico almost smiled at Gwen’s joke, which was a lot coming from him. “What’s this for?”

“I’m being nice,” He looked away, crossing his arms. “I can take it back if you don’t-”

“No,” Gwen picked up the burger, wrapped in colorful paper. “I’ll eat it. Reminds me of the stuff my mom makes. Thanks.” Gwen gestured to Nico to sit on the nearby marble bench, and they sat there while Gwen ate. It wasn’t the best food, but Gwen wasn’t one to turn her nose up for greasy food. Her mom worked at a diner for years and all of her cooking reflected it, it was until Gwen’s mom remarried that she updated her cooking style. Once again a wave of nostalgia washed over her and all Gwen wanted was to be in her mom’s arms.

“So,” Gwen wiped her hands on her shorts. “Let me guess; This new life of mine is only temporary and I’ll die again soon. Or perhaps I’ll start to decompose?” She said with a barbed tone. It wasn’t that Gwen didn’t like Nico; she barely knew him, but she had been dreading talking to him since yesterday. Gwen didn’t like that he wasn’t held up to the same standards as everyone else in camp, and she wasn’t a fan of how he could come and go whenever he pleased.

Nico waved away her poisonous attitude. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. As far as I know, you’re back for good. Or, at least until you get killed again or die from natural causes. For your sake, I hope it’s the latter.”

Gwen felt her shoulders relax a bit, she appreciated that Nico was being kind to her. “What Mars said,” Gwen looked down at her hands, “about this happening because of the Doors of Death, is that the reason no monsters have been dying? Why I’m still here…”

“In the Tartarus,” Nico explains. “There are doors that keep the monsters in there. When they’re killed in the mortal plane, they turn to dust and return to the Tartarus. The Doors now are open, hindering the effect.” 

Gwen did her best to wrap her head around this, it was hard for her to grasp that all this was happening so suddenly. What had transpired previously to lead to something like the Doors of Death being opened? Is this a common occurrence, that sometimes the Doors are opened? She couldn’t help but feel targeted, that there had to be a reason for her to have died and come back.

“So what happens now?” Gwen finished her meal, feeling a bit better.

“That’s for you to decide,” Nico crossed his arms and rested his eyes. “and for this council meeting to figure out. Mars has give your camp an ultimatum, a quest is in the works.”

Gwen sighed, “It’s been a while since we’ve had a quest, though I’m not sure I’d be up to going.”

“What makes you say that?” Nico opened one eye ever so slightly.

Gwen looked at the horizon, the same horizon she’s always seen. No matter how much she wishes everything could go back to normal, but the world looked too different for her to go back to the way it was. There was something big going on, something beyond a simple child of Mercury. A part of Gwen felt like she was involved somehow, like she was meant to go somewhere; she comes from a long line of legacies and has done nothing to show for it. 

“I think,” she started. “I’m not meant to play a part in this. I’m not a martyr, I didn’t die and come back to become this big hero. If anything, I’m just an omen, a sign that shit’s hit the fan.” Gwen glanced at Nico, seeing that his expression seemed pained and sympathetic. “I wanted to be someone, to live up to something, but I think I’ll be okay if I’m not anything special.”

“Gwen-”

“Look,” Gwen stopped Nico before he could say something else. “You don’t know me that well, so don’t make empty assurances. I tried my best to be something, I was trying to become praetor, but I’m the underdog in a pack of wolves. It’s best if I just fade into obscurity.” Gwen felt tears well up in her eyes and she wiped them away before they could fall down her face.

“How are you going to do that?” Nico asked. “Fade into obscurity, I mean.”

Gwen chuckled, trying to make sure she doesn’t start crying again. “Retire, I guess. I’m eighteen, I don’t need to be here any longer than I need to be.” She looked at Nico, a small smile crept on her face. “I’ll be like everyone else; go to school, get a job, get old and fat in New Rome. It’ll be the closest thing I can get to normalcy as a demigod.”

Nico returned the smile, though it still seemed insincere. “That’s an admirable goal, not many demigods let themselves get their hopes up for a life like that.”

“Well,” Gwen pointed to the hills past New Rome. “My great grandmother built a house out there. She was one of the first demigods to relocate to this area after the first camp crashed into the harbor. My grandma told me about it, she said it belongs to the next demigod in our family. I don’t think she ever told my mom, but my mom never had the sight so who knows if she’d ever find the place anyways.”

“Are you going to move into it?”

“Not right now,” Gwen stood up just as the sun showed up completely, as if it rose with her. “I think if I get married I’ll move. My great grandma was a bit of a traditionalist, I think she’d curse me if I moved in and threw college parties.” Nico stood up with her as she started to make her way back to the barracks.

“I’ll let you know if I find out anything else about… you know.” Nico alluded. “Until then, enjoy your new life. I can’t tell you how many people I’d wish to have the life you have now.” Gwen could see in Nico’s expression that there’s a kind of sadness that few know about. Nico had to be at least fourteen years old but he carried the face of a person that has lost friends in wars.

“I’ll try not to take it for granted.” Gwen saw that Reyna with her dogs and Octavian were approaching them and she felt her stomach fall. All she could think about was how disappointed Reyna would be if Gwen left, and the threats thrown by Octavian were still fresh. A shiver crawled up her spine just looking at him. “Uhm, I’m going to get dressed. Wait up for me?”

Nico glanced in the direction Gwen saw them in and gave a slight nod. Gwen rushed into the barracks, everyone was starting to get up. Gwen grabbed a clean shirt and picked up the cleanest looking pants she had (most had a bit of dirt on them regardless but she didn’t want to wear the mud covered ones from last night). As she grabbed her senate toga, it hit her that it might be the last time she wears them. She ran her hands through her hair, not wanting to leave Nico with Reyna and Octavian for too long.

When she came out, the three of them were beginning to talk a bit. Reyna looked relieved to see Gwen.

“How are you feeling, Gwen?” Reyna asked. One of Reyna’s metal hounds circled Gwen a little, making the hair stand up on her arms.

“Fine, I guess.” Gwen refused to even look at Octavian, but she could tell he was shooting daggers out of his eyes.

“I’m glad,” Reyna replied. “And I assume Nico has told you some good news as well?”

“Relatively,” Nico answered. “I wouldn’t worry about her right now, you have more important matters to discuss at the senate meeting.” Once again, Nico managed to say the things that made Gwen feel more calm. “Though I do believe she has something important to tell you, Reyna.” _ I spoke too soon _ , Gwen thought.

Reyna looked at Gwen expectantly, as did Octavian, though with more malice in his eyes. “I uh,” Gwen started to say, holding onto her toga, she thought she was going to be sick again. It wasn’t like she wasn’t serious about retiring, but this camp was so much of her life that she didn’t know how to leave it, she didn’t know how to tell a dear friend of hers that she was going to leave. “I’m retiring.” She said, pulling off the band-aid.

Reyna looked to be taken aback, while Octavian looked to be very satisfied. “Are you sure, Gwen? I thought-”

“You deserve a praetor that can fight alongside with you,” Gwen interrupted. “I’m not that person, last night proved as such.”

As Gwen feared, Reyna’s eyebrows creased in disappointment, but she smiled slightly. “Very well. I suppose we’ll have to elect a new centurion and senator today as well.”

“How bothersome,” Octavian sneered, though a grin was still plain on his face. “But I saw this coming, in a way.”

“Sorry to be so predictable, Octavian.” Gwen snapped. “Had I known I was going to be killed yesterday I might have given more of a heads up, oh well. Life goes on, yeah?” Gwen heard Nico snort behind her, and Reyna raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement.

Octavian was about to say something else but Reyna stopped him. “We best get this procession started, Octavian. The campers are starting to get restless.” Octavian obeyed, though he gave her a look letting her know their fight wasn’t over.

“You okay?” Nico asked.

“I wish people would stop asking me that.” Gwen ran her hand through her hair, letting out all the air in her chest. “I fucking hate him.” She muttered to herself, though it was clear he could hear her as well. A few cohort members were walking out of the barracks, Dakota was stumbling out with his toga wrapped around him haphazardly. She felt her heart clench a little at seeing Dakota, she wanted to be next to him, let him know what she was planning before Reyna announces it. Nico waved at Percy, who looked at him with mild recognition.

“We should get going.” Gwen started to walk with everyone else and Nico walked with her.

* * *

 

_ “Miles is so annoying,” Gwen lifted her bag from the ground, heading towards the gated entrance into camp with Dakota. His hair is freshly buzzed and carrying his minimal luggage amount. “All he does is bully me and Morgan. The other day he was teasing me about the fact that I’ve never been kissed.” _

_ “Full offense,” Dakota started to grin, “but that’s a really weird thing for a brother to focus on. Like, I wouldn’t want my mom to say to me “Dakota you’re such a disappointment because you’ve never had sex before”. Gross.” They both laughed. _

_ “Okay, but it's not that weird for fourteen year old to have never had sex!” Gwen points out as they get closer to the entrance. “I’m almost fifteen, it’s a little weird that I’ve never been kissed.” _

_ Dakota grumbles. “Well, Camp Jupiter isn’t known for being a romantic place. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from horror films is that you shouldn’t be having romantic moments at camp anyways, as soon as you go to bone in the woods you get killed by a serial killer.” Gwen pushed him a little as he started laughing. “Why do you care so much anyways? Your brother’s just being a dick.” _

_ “I don’t know,” Gwen rubbed the back of her neck in anxiety. “I guess, it’s because he gets to live a normal everyday life and I don’t. He worries about stuff like grades and girlfriends, and all I’m doing is trying to get through each day alive. Maybe I just envy him.” _

_ Dakota was quiet for a moment, and they walked in silence until Dakota stopped walking. “If you want your first kiss, I can help you out.” They had walked under the aqueduct tunnel so there was almost no light around them, but Gwen could faintly see that his face had turned beet red. _

_ “Why?” Gwen felt her heart pounding. _

_ “I’m your best friend, that’s why.” Dakota looked incredibly nervous, blinking fast. “It doesn’t mean anything, I’m just doing it so you can tell your brother the next time you see him that you’ve had your first kiss and he can get off your ass.” _

_ Gwen had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing so hard. “Just this one time, right?” She asked. _

_ “Please don’t ever come to me to practice kissing, I’m really not that great.” Dakota got flustered after saying that. “W-which is perfect for you, first kisses aren’t supposed to be good anyways.” _

_ “You don’t have to do this, Dakota.” _

_ “Yes I do,” Dakota grabbed onto Gwen’s shoulders. “this summer is going to be insufferable unless I help you out. Okay?” Gwen smiled broadly, nodding a little. _

_ Her heart started to flip wildly in her chest as she closed her eyes, she could feel Dakota’s face get closer to hers until their lips met. She went still, hearing the blood rush in her ears. Just like that it was over. “See,” Dakota started to walk towards the end of the tunnel. “Nothing to get upset about.” _

* * *

 

The senate meeting started ten seconds ago and Dakota wasted no time getting in a fight as soon as he sat down. Gwen grabbed his flask just before it landed on the ground as he stood up and yelled “We were plenty good last night when we whipped your  _ podex _ , Larry!” This caused some whoops and hollers in the senate house, Gwen was just happy he wasn’t swearing yet. Though, Gwen had to admit, Larry was an ass and had a pretty unfortunate name. Once Dakota got chastised by Reyna, he sat down in a heavy slump.

“This is going to be a long meeting.” Dakota sighed as he took the flask from Gwen’s hand and took a swig from it. Gwen knew she should tell him now, tell him that she was going to retire, but he seemed to be combating his hangover with more drinking. It was even more concerning that he was doing it at 9 in the morning. 

Reyna was skipping formalities and went straight to business, bringing up Frank to the stand. He looked worse than she felt, though Gwen couldn’t blame him. He’s about to go on a quest, and he’s not even a proper member of the legion. She started to bite on her thumb nail, feeling sympathy anxiety for him. She started to tune out whenever Octavian started talking, more so when he sliced open a beanie baby, the same shiver she felt earlier ran through her. Gwen felt her shoulder ache, the same place where she was impaled.

Frank was given a laurel crown for his victory in last night’s wargame, Gwen and Dakota clapped and cheered for him amid all the cries of objection. Octavian silenced the crowd. “There is an opening for centurion,” Reyna said once everyone had calmed down, though Gwen felt her heart stop. “One of our officers, also a senator, has decided to step down.” Gwen rubbed her eyes, trying to pull herself together before Reyna dropped the bomb.

“After ten years in the legion, she will retire to the city and attend college.”  _ Here we go _ , Gwen thought, putting on a convincing smile. “Gwen of the Fifth Cohort, we thank you for your service.” Everyone turned to look at her, and from the corner of her eye she saw Dakota’s drunk expression turn stone like in confusion. There was no applause, no sound of objection. Everyone instantaneously went back into the meeting. 

It’s as she suspected; no one cared, she wasn’t of great importance, it made no difference to them that she died and came back to life. She looked down at her feet, prepared to spend the rest of the meeting staring at her sandals. She knew that she should be listening, they were discussing the fate of the world after all, but she couldn’t bring herself to pay attention. Tears kept welling up in her eyes and she’d quickly wipe them away before anyone could see them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, you're still here? Great!  
> Again, I'm the world's slowest writer, and I'm also a college student, so I apologise for the long ass wait for this chapter. Good news is I have a better idea for how this fic is going to go. Bad news is that it's almost over and it will probably take me a long time to finish anyways. I started this fic about a year ago and I seem to only be able to update it every few months. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed the new chapter, comments and kudos are, as always, very much appreciated.  
> yell at me on my tumblr @gwenkota


	9. DAKOTA

If it were up to Dakota, he’d grow his hair out long like the ranchers at the rez did. He’d tie it into the braids he did for Gwen, wrap his curls around his face and neck when it was cold. His mom rarely cut his hair, but that was more out of laziness and less of letting Dakota express himself. The only times he got hair cut was when he complained that his hair was getting in his eyes. 

Currently, he was glad that his hair was longer than it should be; when he’s nervous he runs his hands through his hair. His joints and nails get caught in his tight curls, scratching at the small scabs on his scalp from previous head injuries. This was one of those times when he was glad he had hair to run his fingers through.

He kept trying to make eye contact with Gwen, but she looked straight ahead, allowing the rest of the forum to continue. It made Dakota sick, that even after announcing that Gwen was retiring that there was no recognition from the crowd. The only worse than that was that Dakota didn’t know. It didn’t add up; Gwen was going to be praetor, they were going to find Jason, everything was going to go back to normal, but now it was different and the outcome didn’t look as clear as it used to. His heart felt solid and heavy in his chest, more than anything he wanted Gwen to look at him and tell him everything was going to be okay. That doesn’t happen during senate meetings.

Dakota was trying to keep up with the conversation, all the attention being put on Percy as Octavian insinuated that he was a spy. At the mention of Alcyoneus everyone stirred, even Gwen’s brows furrowed further. Normalcy was a fantasy at this point. Dakota drank some more, feeling slightly more on edge now.

“...According to the prophecy,” Nico was stating. “They could only be defeated by gods and demigods working together.”

This comment caught Dakota off guard. “Sorry, did you say god and demigods… like fighting side by side?” Dakota looked at Gwen to share an incredulous look, “That could never happen!” Gwen still wouldn’t look at him.

“It  _ has _ happened,” Nico countered. “In the first giant war, the gods called on heroes to join them, and they were victorious. Whether it could happen again, I don’t know.” Dakota began to stop listening again as he finished off his flask. The idea of fighting with his father was a little too much. Dakota could count on his hand drunk the amount of times he has interacted with Bacchus, most were not that great. Dakota remembers him spouting words of madness, vague warnings that gave him nightmares as a kid. Now, Dakota feared the next time Bacchus would show himself.

A majority of the council were starting to shout and because Dakota was feeling left out he shouted. “More kool-aid!” Then, he saw Gwen smirk a little at that. What did that mean? Why did that warrant a reaction?

The rest of the meeting was starting to blur because all Dakota could think about was Gwen (also it was 9 am and he was already buzzed). He knew Gwen had died yesterday, and he can only imagine what that’s like, but he felt like the rug had been pulled from under him and now nothing made sense. All he wanted to do was talk to Gwen, maybe he could convince her to stay, keep her close for another year until he could leave camp too.

His hand slowly moved to hers, barely touching it, and Gwen didn’t pull away but she still didn’t look at him. It was a small victory. Her hand felt clammy, but he held it regardless, squeezing it slightly. As the council came to a close Gwen tried to remove her hand from Dakota, but he wouldn’t let her go so easily. It took a moment to get up, but before she did she nodded her head to the side, inviting Dakota to follow.

They started to follow everyone else that was filing out of the forum, off to finish their duties for the day, but Gwen guided him to an empty corridor. Dakota watched as Gwen started to collect her thoughts, rubbing her face and rubbing the back of her neck with both of her hands; she only got like this when she was particularly nervous. His eyes followed her pacing, letting her get all her nervous energy out of the way.

“Okay,” Gwen sighed. “First off, I’m really really  _ really _ sorry I didn’t tell you I was retiring. I-it wasn’t something I had been planning for a long time, it just came to mind last night-”

“I was with you last night,” Dakota crossed his arms. He was trying really hard not to get defensive, not to make it all about him, but it was failing. “You didn’t bring it up.”

It was hard for Dakota to think about the fact that their future plans were falling through the cracks, but it was ever harder to see Gwen try to patch things up.

“I know, I know. It was half spur of the moment, half last resort kind of thing.”

“If it was a last resort that means you’ve thought about it before.”

Gwen’s shoulders slumped a little in defeat, her toga falling down slightly. She lifted it up in frustration. 

“Dakota, this was a really hard choice for me to make.” Gwen leaded against the wall of the forum, looking out into the street of New Rome. “I thought about it all night, even when I was with you. I didn’t tell you because I knew what you’d say, and last night I didn’t want to hear you try and convince me otherwise, not when we were both drunk.”

Dakota felt his arms drop and rest at his hips as he looked down at the floor, one hand messing with his hair.

“Remember when Miles made fun of me for never having my first kiss?” Dakota’s heart flipped. How could he forget, he’s embarrassed to admit that he thought about that day a lot. Dakota nodded, keeping his eyes trained to the ground. “I get why he did it, I mean besides to be a huge asshole brother. I guess, he could tell that my life wasn’t normal in the way his was. My siblings think I’ve been going to a boarding school since I was eight, I barely grew up with them and I can’t relate to them when I  _ do _ talk to them.”

Dakota looked at Gwen, seeing that her brows were worried. It hurt him to see Gwen like this; she looked more than hungover, she looked haunted. The guilt was beginning to bubble up in him. “All I wanted was to be closer to them,” Gwen continued. “To go to school with them, even if they avoided me at every turn I knew that my brothers would’ve stuck up for me or would’ve helped me with my homework. I can’t even do that for my sister because all of her problems aren’t like mine. She’s talking about prom and finals like it’s the end of the world, and…” Tears started to well in her eye, Dakota waited a moment before-. “And I  _ died _ yesterday!”

Dakota took Gwen into his arms, removing her from the wall as she wrapped herself into him. He didn’t know what else to do. If it was the other way around, if Dakota had gone through what she had, Gwen would know how to take care of him. How to ease his pain, but Dakota was lost. All he knew is that he wanted to hold Gwen for a million years; to become solidified in the embrace and put on display in a museum. He felt tears in his own eyes begin to slowly fall as he bent his head down to rest of the top of Gwen’s head.

His chest ached, from his beating heart and from longing. Dakota couldn’t bear to lose Gwen, not again, and telling her he loved her could push her away forever. The truth weighed heavy on Dakota, he wasn’t sure if he could keep it forever. When Gwen held tight onto Dakota’s shirt and toga and rubbed her face into his chest it was aso if she was holding his heart. She had it, she’s had it since he saw first saw her.

“Hey,” Dakota’s voice cracked a little. “Gwen.” She looked up at him, her eyes were red and brimmed with tears. He cupped the sides of Gwen’s face, wiping away stay tears. “I know that plans change. I know that you wanted the best of both worlds, to live up to your legacy and be a normal girl all at the same time. But, you’re my best friend above all of that…” Gwen’s lips trembled a little, and he was almost tempted to stop them with his own lips, but then thought better of that. 

What kind of girl wants to be kissed when she’s upset?

None.

“I wish you could stay here,” Dakota said, nearly pleading. “Better yet I wish I was as smart and courageous as you, so I could go with you to school. But, don’t feel bad for me, okay?” Dakota gave her a sad smile, hoping it would be enough. “It’s a perfectly respectable want, to be normal in a world that’s anything but.”

“I know you feel like I’m abandoning you.” Gwen sniffed, trying not to cry again. “But I just can’t be here anymore.”

“I know.” Dakota reassured her. 

“And-and I-I don’t even know who killed me. Don’t know if it was an accident or if it was…” Dakota hushed her, stroking the side of her face to keep her calm. She closed her eyes, letting tears fall down again. Even when she was tired and stressed out and crying, Dakota thought Gwen was beautiful, which was a weird and terrible thought. When they were young she was cute, and when they got older he didn’t care what she looked like, but know Dakota was hit with the realization that she was beautiful. 

Dakota placed a kiss on Gwen’s forehead, which was a bit of a calculated risk. They had done it before, it was so innocent, and all Dakota was trying to do was make her feel better. “We’ll find out who did it,” Dakota whispered, wiping more of Gwen’s tears from her face. “It’ll be okay, alright?” Gwen’s hands lingered on Dakota, moving down his arms and grabbing his hands on her face. She looked at him, her dark brown eyes peered into him with such sudden determination, but with the usual softness he was so accustomed to seeing.

“This isn’t the end, you know.” Gwen smiled a little.

“It definitely feels like it.” Dakota remarked. “Shit’s going down, that’s for sure.”

“And I won’t forget you, when I’m going to school.”

“I sure hope not! I’ll just live vicariously through you. I’ll become a legend at all the frat parties we go to. And I’ll show up at your dorm and start impromptu karaoke nights while you’re studying. It will make up for all the times we planned on visiting each other on times off but never could because we lived too far away.”

Gwen grimaced. “That actually sounds awful. The drinking and karaoke stuff, not the making up for lost time thing.”

“Well that’s what you’re going to get.” The both of them laughed a little, the mood suddenly shifting for the better. And then Gwen kissed the palm of Dakota’s hand. A heart-stopping interaction, something so simple but Dakota was already obsessed. This was  _ not _ something they did often.

“Thank you, Dakota.” Gwen let go of his hands, wiping the rest of her tears away.

Okay, now he  _ had _ to say something. Gwen had made a move, or something. Who just does that casually? “Gwen-”

“Centurions,” The two of them turned and saw Octavian approaching.

“Holy shit-timing, Batman.” Dakota grumbled. Gwen had deer in headlights expression, she slipped her arm around Dakota’s hiding behind him slightly. It was weird, that Gwen was acting like this, usually when Octavian showed up she stood her ground, but now she was practically shrinking.

“Just because there’s preparations for a quest,” Octavian glided to them, looking his usual snobby and slimy self. “Doesn’t mean regular duties are exempt.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dakota countered. “Shouldn’t you be eating children in a sewer drain right now?”

Octavian went for Dakota, but Dakota didn’t flinch, he had already sobered up in the short amount of time between the meeting and now. “Watch it, Clark.” Octavian sneered. _Ooh_ , Dakota thought, _He's using last names, that means he means business._ But he knew better than to say it out loud.“I could be praetor soon, and I won’t go easy on you like Reyna and Jason would.”

Dakota rolled his eyes. It wasn’t so much that Reyna and Jason went easy on Dakota, it was more like they tolerated his shenanigans because Dakota delivered. They could excuse the drinking and partying so long as Dakota went berserk in battles and kept the fifth legion in line. The latter part was more of Gwen’s job, and she more than less had to keep him on task, but it was a doable situation. There was a hostile harmony involved in all of it. Now Octavian was hoping to disturb it.

“So,” Dakota looked down at Octavian, who stood half a foot shorter than Dakota. “What is it you want,  _ augur, _ or did you just show up because someone said your name three times?”

Octavian scoffed. “I thought you would want to see our legionnaires off. They’re sailing off soon.”

“Sailing?” Gwen piped up, “Why are they sailing? And on what?”

“It was Perseus’ idea.” Octavian grinned mischievously. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t make it out of the harbor.”

Gwen and Dakota both sighed indignantly at Octavian’s comment. Gwen grabbed Dakota’s hand and led him away from the augur, heading towards the barracks. “I swear,” Dakota hissed. “He gets creepier every day.” He saw that Gwen wasn’t looking back, she looked ahead.

Dakota knew there was something wrong, and as he turned to take one last look at Octavian, Dakota could’ve sworn he saw the augur’s smile turn into a sinister grimace. And a chill ran up his spine.

Dakota needed a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after more than a year of writing, things are finally winding down and Daughter of Many will be ending soon. However.... there will be a sequel. I won't go too much into detail, but it will be much less ah.... INTENSE, i guess.  
> Longing to Linger will be updated next, I'm still working on the outline for it.
> 
> Also shoutout to Pets for making a Daughter of Many playlist on Spotify!   
> https://open.spotify.com/user/petscantstandyou/playlist/67nDaarmgc4tUg6kdE6egN?si=WTN246C5QGCQ1ee0HjhCfA


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